LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
— pS 3| O 

UNITED States of ameejca. 



LEGE^NDS 



OF THE 



NETHERLANDS 



TO WHICH ARE ADDED SOME 

LEGENDS OF MANHATTAN ISLAND. 



BY 

GIDEON J. TUCKER, A.M., I.I..D. 



Brave old Fatherland! over the sea 

Thy distant descendants dwell proudly on thee ! 

Thy homely virtues, thy love for toil 

Thy sons have transplanted to other soil. 

And they will maintain, wherever they be. 

Religion tolerant, and Government free. 



PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY 

THE CONCORD COOPERATIVE PRINTING COMPANY 



New York, 1892. 



\, JUL 6 J 892 






These Volkslieds of our forefathers I dedicate to 
the millions of native born Americans who are 
descended from Holland Dutch ancestry. 

Gideon J. Tucker. 
July, 1892. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, 

by Gideon J. Tucker, of New York, 

in the year 1892, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 



THE TECTOSAGES. 

B. c. 390—280. 

Who shall sing of the Tectosages, 

Sons of marshy Belgian soil, 
Foremost where the battle rages, 

Seeking conquest, loving spoil ? 
Gaul has seen their roving legions. 

Of resistance making mock. 
Occupy her choicest regions, 

Settling in fair Languedoc. 

Not yet are their wanderings ended, 

Down the Danube pour their hordes, 
Macedonia, undefended. 

Heeds their summons, dreads their swords. 
Swim they next the deep Bosphorus, 

Timid Asia fears the fray, 
Hears their wild, barbaric chorus. 

Yields to their imperious sway. 



Famed for valorous doings, no man 

Braves the Belgic lion's whelp, 
Pyrrlius leads them 'gainst the Koman, 

Carthage buys their willing help: 
Through dark scenes of blood and pillage, 

Conflict brave and plunder base, 
Euined town and smoking village. 

Early history marks their trace. 



Theirs is Toulouse, heaped with treasure. 

Spoils of Asia and Greece, 
Gold and silver beyond measure, 

Prize of war and pride of peace : 
When her foe his victim swallowed. 

And the town betrayed and sold. 
Fearful was the curse that followed 

On Tolosa's stolen gold. 

Sing the tale of the Tectosages, 
Siii<y their fierce, heroic deeds, 

Dimly note we, through the ages. 

Their achievements and their greeds : 



Murder-doing, plunder-hoarding, 
Long forgot their land of birth, 

All we know is their marauding, 
Carried over half the earth. 



CIVILIS STANDING ON THE BROKEN 
BRIDGE. 

A. D. 70. 

The brave Batavians, children of the sea, 
Long waged their fierce rebellion against 
Rome, 
Wild as their tempests, as their waters free, 
Though bleak and bare the dunes they 
called their home : 
Once Rome's best soldiers ; all allegiance 

spurned. 
Now their tried arms were 'gainst her 
eagles turned. 

Civilis, hater of the foreign yoke, 

Led forth his countrymen on flood and 
field. 
And oft the power of the legions broke. 
And taught the stubborn Romans first to 
yield ; 
And, though the ocean rose o'er Betuwe, 
The billows spared the children of the 
sea. 



5 

His fleet the Consul Cerealis lost, 

The Meuse the captured Eoman galleys 
bore, 
Gay with their painted sails, and the great 
host 
Of armed barbarians lined the further 
shore ; 
To these the Consul's sacred heralds come 
To bring Civilis overtures from Rome. 

A wooden bridge a sluice's waters spanned, 
They broke it, at the middle of the tide, 

Civilis stood upon the hither end. 
And Cerealis on the farther side. 

And the debate began with earnest tongue. 

For chains or freedom on its issue hung. 

The veil, which History's uplifted hand 
Has partly raised, that moment darkly fell. 

How fared it with Civilis and his land ? 
No mortal tongue or pen shall ever tell! 

Yet, through long centuries, which inter- 
vene, 

Civilis, standing on that bridge, is seen. 



6 

Wars, waged for conquest, dynasty or creed, 
Have carsed men since their records first 
begin; 
Those only can be reckoned just indeed, 
Fought on behalf of country, home and 
kin : 
Known to all peoples, languages and lands, 
Upon that broken bridge Civilis stands. 

A conqueror rears a statue or a shaft, 
A tyrant revels amid venal praise, 

The selfish servitors of force and craft 
Their effigies and trophies vainly raise: 

The patriot hero lives from age to age. 

Immortal, glorious, on History's page. 



AUGUSTUS CAEAUSIUS. 
In the Third Century. 

Dedicate 1 to his historian, Gen, J. Watts De Peyster. 

Stormy and strong are tlie winds that howl 

through the British Channel, 
Eough and threatening the waves that roll 

in the Northern Ocean, 
There the Hollander rocks like a child in a 

cradle. 
There with the sea and the storm he wages 

eternal conflict. 



Famed for his courage and skill was the 

Dutch sailor, Carausius, 
Baseborn, they said, but young, and of 

strength and beauty Godlike, 
None so skillful as he, guiding his rudder 

midst tempests. 
None so terribly fierce on the wet decks of a 

sea fight. 



8 

Reigned at Rome the Emperor, mighty Au- 
gustus Maximian, 

Lord of the Western world: thus spoke he 
to Carausius — 

"Pirateeand corsairs trouble the coasts of 
Gaul and of Britain, 

Sweep them clean and quiet ; I create thee 
Thalassiarch." 



Forth o'er the Northern Ocean poured the 

ships of the Dutchman, 
Swept it clean and quiet, drowned the hosts 

of sea robbers. 
Sailed through the British Seas down to the 

Bay of Biscay, 
Scourged the Danes and the Northmen, 

scourged the plundering Bretons. 

High on Carausius' mast there floated the 

white-horse banner, 
Bright on his shield a ship seemed sailing 

lone on the ocean 



9 

Thus did Carausius win tlie sacred name of 

Augustus: 
Everywhere over the waters brooded the 

peace of Augustus. 



From Rome there came the tardy praise and 

thanks of the Senate; 
The Emperor gave to the sailor the title and 

honors of sovereign; 
Still extant are the medals, bearing the proud 

inscriptions, 
Showing the lord of the seas become the 

monarch of Britain. 



But the tyrants at Rome as sudden revoked 

their favor. 
Waged a war with Carausius everywhere in 

Armorica; 
Back he hasted to Holland, overthrew 

Rome's legions, 
Defeated on sea and land the C?esar Con- 

stantius Chlorus. 



10 

Then he died at York, struck by Alectus' 

dagger, 
Then his realm fell to pieces, and the fierce 

Romans regained it; 
Pirates again on the seas, — robbery, violence, 

murder, — 
All attested the loss of the Dutch Augustus 

Carausius. 



11 

FEIESLAND AND ZEELAND. 

In the Ninth Century. 

• 

The Counts of Holland had many a fief, 
Held of the Kaiser by feudal law, 

But Friesland knew no imperial chief. 
And free was the sceptre her ruler bore. 

The Emperor gave to the roving Danes 
The land of Friesland, without a right, 

But Friesland's sons retook the domains 
And overcame the heathen in fight. 

And, beside the forest of Wanda, naught 
Of the land of Zeeland the Kaiser held ; 

For faith and freedom the Zeelanders fought 
Till Danish rule was at last expelled. 

And nowhere was known, since the world 
began, 
A people stronger or rulers more weak. 
For in Friesland and Zeeland every man 
Might think and reason and write and 
speak. 



12 

HOW THE BISHOP SAVED UTRECHT. 
A. T>. 1137. 

Utreclit's Bishop demanded Friesland 
As his owu province, subject and liege, 

Count Theodore did the claim withstand, 
And shut up Utrecht with sudden siege. 

Closer and closer the lines were pressed, 
liight Beverend Heribert's garrison 
quailed, 
Not even his prayers, though he prayed at 
his best, 
Nor fastings, processions nor relics 
availed. 

The day had come for the final assault, 
The Hollanders massed for mounting the 
wall, 

Unless there be somewhere a falter, or fault. 
Old Utrecht is surely about to fall ! 



13 

Lo, the city's portal is opening itself : 
What is issuing forth — an armed sortie ? 

The Ritterband fighters for plunder and 
pelf 
Recoil astounded at what they see. 



In full canonicals, mitre and gown, 
Escorted by priest and by alcolyte, 

With monks in black robe and friars in 
brown, 
And crosiers and crosses paraded in sight, 



With solemn ritual and anthem loud. 

With a bearing free from alarm or doubt, 

With a lofty mien and attitude proud. 
The Bishop of Utrecht passes out. 

That lighted candle, full well they know^ 
An excommunication portends ; 

The soldiers away their weapons throw. 
The Bishop advances — resistance ends. 



14 

Spiritual power the victory gains, 

Banners droop and the shoutings still, 

Psalmody stifles the warlike strains, 

And his enemies bow to the Bishop's will. 

The penitent Count is humbly shriven, 
Of Utrecht and Friesland rests Heribert 
lord ; 

The realm is saved that devotion had given ; 
So does the crosier subdue the sword. 



15 



COUNT WILLEM S CRUSADE. 

A. D. 1218. 

Count Willem of Holland Lad piously vowed 
To cross his sword with the Paynim afar ; 

With stalwart yeomen and cavaliers proud, 
In twelve great ships he sailed for the 
war. 

Long they tossed on the heaving sea, 

Those brave Dutch sailors who feared for 
naught, 

And a weary man was Willem, when he 
One day cast anchor in Lisbon port. 

" O, tarry and help! " cried the Portuguese 
King, 

"For the cursed followers of false Ma- 
hound 
Have seized Alczar, and they force us to 
bring 
A tribute of Christian captives bound." 



16 

Down from their vessels, with sword in hand, 
The Dutchmen leaped, and retook Alczar, 

The slaves were restored to the grateful land, 
And Willem sailed for the distant war. 

Then steered he East, for the cross to fight^ 
Where the swelling floods of the Nile come 
down. 

Where shone the domes and minarets bright 
O'er the walls of Damietta town. 



Girt was that city with lofty towers, 
Strong and brave were the men within; 

The foul fiend summoned his utmost powers 
To baffle the Christians' attempt to win. 

Demoniac faces mock from the wall, 

Sounds as from Hell break the calm of 
night. 
Fiendish enchantments the Christians ap- 
pal, 
And devils seize on the fallen in fight. 



17 



Across the channel was stretched and tied 
To the opposite bank a great iron chain, 

Below it the good Dutch ships could ride, 
But the upper river they could not gain. 



The chain is severed — the towers fall ! 

'Twas the Haarlem men the attack began; 
The Dafcchmen clamber the bristling wall, 

'Twas Haarlem burghers who led the van ! 



The turbaned foemen sullenly yield. 
The suppliant city is at his feet. 

Impatient Willem lays by his shield 
And hurries his booty aboard the fleet. 



"Ho, for our homes by the Northern Sea! 

We have fought the fight and have kept 
our vows ; 
We have proven our faith and our chivalry — 

Hasten, and homeward turn our prows." 



18 

Home they come with their marvellous tales, 
Tales which a thousand additions en- 
hance, 

Beside Count Willem's crusade pales 
The strangest story of old romance. 



And Haarlem — old Haarlem — still keeps the 
day 
Whereon that Paynim city was won, 
And honors the fallen crusaders who lay 
Where their bones were bleached by the 
torrid sun. 



Then Willem, good Willem, to Middelburgh 
gave 

A charter which rendered her citizens free: 
He rests in a blessed and honored grave ; — 

God send us others as worthy as he ! 



19 



THE COUNTESS JANE. 
A. D. 1223. 
I tell the tale of a frightful deed, 

Of a hapless sire by his daughter slain, • 
Slain for a wicked woman's greed — 

The terrible crime of the Countess Jane. 

Baldwin, Emperor, lord of the East, 

Escaped from the wild Bulgarian horde, 

Hoping to find a refuge at least, 

All things lost but his honor and sword, 

Back to Flanders returned, to find 

His place usurped and his claims decried. 

For his daughter Jane, with words unkind. 
His very person and face denied. 

'* Shameless imposter, who mocks the dead, 
Hence to a prison and scafi'old! " she cried, 

" For he, who was of this state the head, 
In far Bulgarian deserts died." 



20 

But Flanders spoke with a single voice, 
'A welcome home to our feudal lord! 

We see our Count, and we al^ rejoice 
To pledge to him every loyal sword! " 



The wicked Countess besought the aid. 
Of the King of France, her throne to gain, 

And Louis promptly the call obeyed. 

And his knights brought back the haugh- 
ty Jane. 

* 

Her husband lies in the Louvre tower, 
Her father died by the headsman's hand. 

The Countess sits in her lonely bower 
And rules, with an iron rule, the land. 

But long as Merit must yield to Fate, 
And long as sin brings lasting shame. 

The bard will sing and the scribe relate 
The terrible crime of the Countess Jane. 



21 



GUY DAMPIEKBE AND HIS DAUGH- 
TER 

A. D. 1300. 

When tlie countship of Flanders was held by 

Guy Dampierre, 
He sought to wed his daughter to the 

English monarch's heir ; 
Phillipina was a damsel quite worthy of a 

prince, 
For beauty none surpassed her then and 

none exceed her since ; 
But because the French King Philip was 

Flanders' feudal lord, 
The marriage was suspended to await his 
royal word. 

" Far be it from me to insist upon my feudal 

right. 
By which I could forbid the bans, and 
work ye such despite, 



22 

But, because I am godfather to such a 

charming maid, 
I fain would see and bless her in her bridal 

robes arrayed; 
So, pay me now the visit I so many years 

have sought. 
See Paris and its splendors and the pleasures 

of my court." 

They trusted the false monarch : he got them 

in his power, 
He locked them safe in dungeons in the 

famous Louvre tower, 
And vainly did Pope Benedict, with all the 

world, protest. 
Since Philip only answered all remon- 
strance with a jest ; 
So the beauteous Phillipina, of the Vlaen- 

derland the pride. 
Perhaps from long imprisonment, perhaps 
by poison, died. 



23 



THE CIVIL WAE OF THE CODS AND 
THE HOOKS. 

A. D. 1300—1500. 

The banquet in the town hall had been set, 

Nobles and citizens together met ; 

The feast had reached the phase of drink 

and toast, 
When some vain lordling made a wanton 

boast — 
" We nobles eat you commoners as we wish. 
You are the bait, and we the swallowing 

fish ! " 
A burgher blurted forth — " 'tis very odd, 
The baited hook so often takes the cod ! " 
The quick retort awoke responsive sound. 
And with loud echo went the laugh around. 

The names of factions rise from feud or feast, 
Some happy answer, or some sneering jest. 
And for two centuries in Holland raged 
The war this festive play of words presaged. 



24 

The commune men deliberately took 

From their response the vaunting name of 

Hook, 
While those who would a prouder station 

claim 
In the Cod found an emblematic name ; 
And ere the warfare ended, many a plain 
Was cursed and cumbered with red heaps of 

slain. 



25 

THE BATTLE OF COURTEAI. 

A. D. 1302. 

O fearful was the slaughter at the battle of 

Courtrai, 
When before our Flemish burghers the 

knights of France gave way, 
When was gathered in the harvest of hate 

that had been sown, 
And full revenge was taken on the tyrant 

Chatillon. 



Their Queen against our people maintained 

a bitter spite, 
To her alone belongs the provocation of that 

figtt; 

As if she had the purpose our manhood to 

arouse, 
She said, "Kill me these Flemish boars, and 

do not spare the sows ! " 



26 

When slie came to visit Flanders, the jewels, 

silks and gold. 
Worn by our dames, revealed to her a mine 

of wealth untold, 
Inflamed by ire and jealousy she sneered a 

royal sneer — 
" I thought myself the only Queen ; I see six 

hundred here ! " 



And Ohatillon, our Governor, with our poor 
town was wroth. 

And decreed that every workman from his 
wages pay one-fourth ; 

And when Philippe commanded that certain 
goods be made, 

He punished those who made them for clam- 
oring to be paid. 

Our commune he abolished, and denied our 

burgher right ; 
Then good old Pieter Koning roused our 

people to the fight — 



27 

" Awake, brave Bruges, liaste and seize thy 

targe, and torch, and brand. 
For there's a bloody rising throughout the 

Vlaenderland ! " 



To Courtrai the flower of French chivalry 
was sent. 

To Courtrai we burghers marched-our motto 
" Scilt en vriendt ! " 

At Courtrai on that July day we slaughter- 
ed them like curs, 

And hung up, as our trophies, four thousand 
gilded spurs. 

O patriot town of Bruges, which waited not 
for Ghent ! 

Thine was the stern rebuke that to that 
wicked Queen was sent ! 

Thy fierce revolt had wakened up but slow- 
ly through the land. 

But when it struck, the blow was dealt as 
with an iron hand ! 



28 



Philippe lost all his Barons upon that fate- 
ful day, 

And the Holy Father cursed him, and the 
Bishops fell away ; 

And Courtrai taught a lesson worth the pon- 
dering of a King — 

Beware how you disturb our hives, for work- 
ing bees can sting ! 



29 



THE BURNING ALIVE OF THE 
KNIGHTS TEMPLAK. 

At Paris, a. d. 1314. 

Through the Christian realms there went 
forth the cry, 

" The accursed Paynim bear rule and sway 
In the Holy Land where our Lord did die. 

O'er the sepulchre where his body lay ; — 
The Moslem are trampling our sacred things; 
Arouse, Oh nations, and arm. Oh Kings ! " 



From cot and castle, from bourg and court. 
Swarmed forth crusaders, pious and brave. 

By myriads they marched, and prayed and 
fought. 
The Land of the Cross to redeem and save; 

And they won back by valor the sacred sod, 

Where Solomon builded the temple of God. 



30 

Where the crucified Saviour's body had lain 
The Templar Knights were guards of the 
tomb, 
Till the hosts of the Moslem prevailed again, 
And the Christian Kingdom sank to its 
doom ; 
For it seemed good in the sight of the Lord 
That the land should revert to the Infidel 
horde. 

The Templar Knights, from their Palestine 
driven, 
Brought back their scanty and shattered 
bands ; 
Their prayers the poor to their aid had given. 
The rich had given them manors and lands; 
And great and wealthy their Order became 
And hate and envy attended its fame. 

For Europe was suffering, and gaunt with, 
despair. 
With greed and ambition its rulers were 
drunk, 



31 

Its towns were in ruins, its acres were bare, 
And all were in want but the Jew and the 
monk ; 
So the Pope and the King, in the depth of 

their need, 
To divide the spoil of the Templars agreed. 



Horrible things to their charge were brought, 

Sorcery, sodomy, heresies. 
Fiendish rites by the demons taught, 
Self-absolution, and blasphemies : 
And Clement and Philip their conscience ap- 
peased, 
By having both Templars and treasure 
seized. 



Crippled and crushed, from their torture 
den. 

With broken joint and dismembered frame, 
Twisted and racked out of shape of men, 

Before the tribunal the Templars came. 



32 

Kevoking what paltry and shameful lies 
Were wrung from their lips by their ag- 
onies. 

The sickening tale of their awful doom, 
Dragged by the score to a death of fire, 

Is told by the scribe of a rare old tome 
Who saw the last of the Templars expire: 

With them died Knighthood, its romance 
and pride ; 

With them the age of the Crusades died. 

When the Grand Master the charges repelled. 
And made to the Holy Father appeal, 

King Philip his manly protest quelled 
And hastened his fiery fate to seal : 

The Parliament gardens were wide and fair. 

And he burned the Master to ashes there. 



From the seething flames came a summons 
loud, 
In the voice of the sufferer, Jacques 
Molay — 



33 

" Ho, Pontiff the mighty, ho, King the proud, 
I summon ye both, ere a year pass away, 
For avarice, cruelty, crime, to atone. 
Meet me, and answer, before God's throne!" 

Then Philip's sister and his wicked Queen 
Both died, and their deaths were a mys- 
tery ; 
Then the awful shame of his daughters was 
seen ; 
Then, suddenly, Philip himself did die ; 
And Clement's abandoned corpse long lay 
XJnburied; — all, ere a year passed away ! 



34 



THE EXILE OF PIETER DU BOIS 
FROM GHENT. 

A. D. 1386. 

"The Duke has pardoned our noble Ghent, 
He will not fail of his knightly word ; 

Faith with the town is surely meant; 
'Tis won by treaty, and not by sword." 



To Pieter Du Bois thus Atreman spake ; 

Gallantly each had fought for the town, 
Vainly, for Ghent must submission make. 

And the great city was quieted down. 



" For me," said Pieter, " I trust him not ; 

Pardon is naught but a spoken word ; 
The Duke our warfare has not forgot ; 

Commons never can trust a lord. 



35 

" I am a man of but lowly birth, 

Freely for Ghent have I risked my life ; 

Dear to me is this spot of earth, 

Dearer are freedom, and child, and wife. 

" I will go to the Council straight, 

My frank request it will not withstand, 

I will ask for an exile's fate, 

For leave to dwell in a foreign land." 

So Pieter sailed to a stranger shore, 
Safely escaping with life and limb. 

His kin, his goods, his fortune he bore ; 
But Atreman tarried — they murdered 
him! 



36 
THE LOEDS OF MAESTRICHT. 

A. D. 1400. 

The Liege Bishop and the Duke of Brabant 
Together have governed our Maestricht 
town, 
Both can be rulers, but one of them can't. 
They have two heads, but they wear but 
one crown. 

For one lord is no lord, 
And two lords but one lord. 
Een heer — geen heer, 
Twen heeren — een heer ! 

When the Bishop is absent, the Duke can- 
not act, 
When the Duke is away, the Bishop is 
naught, 
If perchance the two an agreement have 
lacked, 
(As is often the case), confusion is wrought. 



37 

For one lord is no lord, 
And two lords but one lord. 
Een heer — geen heer, 
Twen heeren — een heer! 



38 



HOW ARNOLD BEILING DIED. 
A. D. 1424 

Brave old Arnold Beiling ! 

My very soul is stirred, 
As I read in ancient story, 

How lie kept his plighted word. 

The Hooks had been besieging 
The old Schoonhoven Fort, 

Defended by some nobles, 
And some of the baser sort ; 

And when at last it yielded, 
Though hot from recent strife. 

The nobles spared the nobles. 
And granted grace and life. 

Chief of the burgher party, 
Arnold, they would not spare ; 

The sins of his associates, 
Arnold alone must bear ; 



39 

And him alone their vengeance 

Would of his life deprive, 
And they passed the dreadful sentence 

To bury him alive. 

Pale, but with resolution, 

He asked for brief delay, 
To embrace his friends and kindred, 

Until a certain day. 

Such the man's faith and courage 
That they allowed him free. 

For they knew his promise sacred. 
Without a surety. 

Upon the day appointed, 

Before the sun was high. 
Calmly returned old Arnold, 

And yielded him to die. 

Naught but a simple burgher, 

Without a titled name, 
Yet where is King or noble 

But would envy him his fame ? 



40 

THE DAYS OF THE DUKES OF BUK- 
GUNDY. 

A. D. 1419—1477. 

In the days of Philip and Charles the Bold, 
Such extravagance reigned as cannot be told. 
Rich were the Netherlands, reckless were 

they, 
And their flaunt of magnificence shamed the 

day: 
With a profligate suite and a crowded court. 
Days given to feastings and nights to sport, 
A gorgeous display within palace walls, 
Of jewels, and costumes, and jousts and balls. 
Where a thousand fashions the sovereign 

would set. 
And courtiers follow, though crippled with 

debt. 
When Philip was sick, and his head must 

shave. 
An order that all must be shaven, he gave. 
And five hundred noblemen, little and big, 
Employed each a barber, and bought each a 

wig. 



41 

It was boasted that bo other ruler could 
wring 

From his people an income befitting a King. 

Did the Duke visit Paris? all Paris, agape, 

Was crazed o'er his costumes and charmed 
with his shape : 

His horses, his table, his equipage fine, 

Court ladies decided to be just divine. 

He seemed, as by the old scribe 'tis ex- 
pressed. 

Of an inexhaustible treasure possessed. 

How did the realm such expenses bear ? 

How did the commoner classes fare ? 

The people were laboring with right good 

wills ; 
The winds turned the sails of a thousand 

mills ; 
Each acre, reclaimed from the Northern 

Sea, 
Was tilled with a patient industry ; 
And myriads of cattle rich pastures found 
On the waving fields of the rescued ground, 



42 

The forges roared and the ship yards rang, 
And with tireless humming the cloth looms 

sang; 
A thousand trade ships explored every sea, 
And the land was as busy as it could be. 
Each burgher good in the Netherlands 
Worked, honest and well, with his head and 

hands, 
And, living on Industry's well-earned wage, 
Was a notable man in that idle Age. 

The rest of Europe was suffering and sad, 
But each Dutchman an air of jollity had, 
The rest of Europe was wretched and poor. 
But plenty sat at each Dutchman's door ; 
The rest of Europe was ruled by the sword 
Of the tyrant King, or the robber lord ; 
And the plains of Europe scant harvests 

could yield, 
For the peasants were swept to the battle 

field, 
(Where knights, clad in armor from heel to 

crown, 
Courageously rode naked yeomen down ; ) 



43 

And whatever tlie laboring hind might make 
The gentry, by right of their birth, might 

take : 
But the Dutchman was ruled by his equals 

and mates, 
And his laws were made by his own Estates. 

The rest of Europe had little of skill, 

For the commons were taught but to ravage 

and kill, 
And man upon man heaped unuttered woes, 
Who no quarrel had with his so-called foes. 
The rest of Europe knew little of art, 
Of a building plan or a mariner's chart ; 
While the Dutchman reared church and pal- 
ace and hall, 
With pinnacle, tower and steeple tall. 
Whose lofty arches and porticoes wide. 
Proved the architect's skill and the citizens' 

pride ; 
And dykes, and bridges, and roads and 

canals. 
And high and defiant city walls. 



u 

With impartial palette the Dutchman could 

paint 
The revel of boor or the rapture of saint, 
And his matchless pictures will always be 

found 
Wherever the lovers of art abound. 

While the rest of Europe was filled with 

alarm, 
The Dutchman remained without fear of 

harm; 
While the rest of Europe was chilled by the 

storm, 
The Dutchman's houses were dry and warm; 
While the rest of Europe in rags was clad. 
The Dutchman furs and thick woolens had ; 
While the rest of Europe was scanty of food. 
The Dutchman had plenty, both cheap and 

good; 
The German feasted on hogs and dried geese, 
The Englishman fattened on tripe and cheese. 
The Spaniard swaggered on garlic and bread. 
The Italian upon maccaroni was fed. 



45 

But the Dutchman, who sailed the ocean 

through, 
All manner of fish from its bosom drew, 
And f)n the canals one had very poor luck, 
Who could not for dinner have a roast duck. 
With rabbits his barrenest sandhills teemed, 
And clouds of wild fowl in inlets screamed ; 
Dutch beeves were famous for size and fat, 
And pigeons in clouds upon rooftrees sat : 
And every root and fruit that was known. 
Each kitchen garden could call its own. 
While the rest of Europe was empty and 

starved, 
Tlie Dutchman his ample dinner carved, 
Nor failed to bring, from the banks of the 

Rhine, 
Or Burgundy hill sides, the choicest of wine. 

True, there were outrages weighty and sad, 
AVhich the Dutch from the Dukes of Bur- 
gundy had. 
The money drain of those feudal chiefs, 
To their thrifty souls were perpetual griefs ; 



46 

But the obstinate burghers rarely paid 
Their taxes unless some grievance was 

stayed ; 
More independent in their walled towns, 
Than Philip or Charles, who wore ducal 

crowns. 
Did the prince want cash ? the cash he could 

find, 
The moment some charter or franchise was 

signed. 
And glad were the Dukes to barter such 

grants. 
For means to tide over their frequent wants; 
And shrewd and wise in their peaceful might 
Were the burghers, who cheaper could buy 

than fight. 
So dealt they with Philip and Charles the 

Bold, 
And won their freedom by patience and gold. 



47 



HOW BURGUNDY GOT LUXEM- 
BOURG. 

A. D. 14G2. 

Said Louis the King to the Seigneur Chinay, 
" Your Duke of Bourgogne gives me trouble 

each day, 
In what does he differ from other lords 
That he vexes my patience with peevish 

words ? 
Is he made of other metal, that he 
Should thus presume with impunity ? " 

Said the Seigneur Chinay to Louis the King, 
" The Duke is a very different thing 
From the holiday lords who in swarms re- 
sort 
To your Royal Majesty's gilded court ; 
Of another metal he surely is made. 
For of Kings of France he was never afraid. 

" There was a desperate day, long since. 
When a French King exiled his son, a Prince, 



48 • 

And a certain Duke the exile received, 
His cause sustained and his state retrieved ; 
That Duke could none but my master be, 
And that exiled Prince was — Your Majesty !" 

The wise King heeded the bold rebuke, 
And Luxembourg gave to his friend, the 
Duke. 



49 
CHARLES OF GUELDERLAND. 

A. D. 1500. 

Old Duke Arnold of Guelderland, 
With a palsied tongue and a shaking hand, 
Sold to Burgundy's Duke his crown, — 
But the money agreed on was not paid down. 
Duke Arnold died without getting the cash, 
Which showed his bargain with Burgundy 

rash ; 
But Burgundy, doffing his gauntlets and 

helm, 
Imperial homage did for the realm. 

The usurper, further pursuing his game. 
Bought the Berg and Juliers outlawed claim. 
And, with a force they could not withstand. 
Subjected the freemen of Guelderland. 
But soon he lay in a gory bed, 
And his daughter Mary reigned in his stead ; 
And Mary confirmed all the charters old. 
For love of the people, or gift of their gold, 



50 

And new ones granted to town and state, 
That their vested rights might never abate. 
But Mary fell from her horse and died, 
So fell the Burgundy power and pride ! 
And Philip was Count of Holland, and he 
Also would Duke of Guelderland be. 

Old Duke Arnold a grandson had left. 
Who of his dukedom appeared bereft, 
But, brave as a lion and shrewd as a fox, 
Charles Van Egmond dealt in hard knocks. 
Or in subtle craft, as the case might demand. 
And soon he was master of Guelderland. 
Sad to think of the maimed and dead. 
Of the blood so freely, so uselessly shed ; 
Sad to picture the ruin and waste 
The works of labor and art effaced, 
The burning town and the murderous field, 
The besieged, who slowly to famine yield, 
The war on the helpless, the deeds of shame, 
Which heroes denominate glory and fame ; 
The eye grows dim and the heart beats with 

pain, 
In reviewing these horrors over again. 



51 

And all these miseries, losses and fears, 
The land endured for full fifty years. 
Little of mercy had Charles, be sure, 
For starving peasant and homeless boor, 
For power and rank in that hapless time 
Were the prizes of cruelty, craft and crime. 
So, with the aid of Frenchmen and Dane, 
He reddened full many a battle plain, 
With his people's blood, for what he could 

call 
His rights — though they had no rights at 

alL 

At Amsterdam's gates his banners flew 
And seas and rivers his cruisers knew, 
On ocean and land he made equal war, 
'Gainst the Spanish king and the emperor, 
(For Philip the Count, in his turn, was dead, 
And Carlos reigned in his father's stead :) 
Friesland he took with his own good sword, 
And Groeningen acknowledged him lord, 
And Friedrich, Bishop of Utrecht, his friend, 
Both carnal and spiritual aid could lend. 



52 

Next, being by popular feeling so backed, 
The Hague he captured and terribly sacked. 
And Charles Van Egmond of Guelderland 
Was the popular idol throughout the land. 
But Holland aroused when the Hague was 

burned, 
And swiftly and sternly the tide had turned, 
And Charles was so soon of his spoils bereft. 
That he had nothing but Guelderland left ; 
Yet half a century wasted in war 
Had given him never a hurt nor a scar ! 

His people, praying that war would cease. 
Denied his demands and insisted on peace, 
And Guelderland was not slow to refuse 
As a ruler the King of France to choose. 
Lost were his conquests and fallen his pride. 
And with broken heart the veteran died. 
Long has his name, or alive or dead, 
Been dreaded because of the blood he shed, 
Yet Charles, on behalf of Guelderland, broke 
The detested weight of a foreign yoke : 
And many a monarch with lesser claims 
The pen of History a hero names. 



53 

CHAELES QUINT IN HIS CBADLE. 
A. D. 1500. 

Watching a baby's cradle, 

Soft as the summer wind blows 
Imperial Margot of Flanders 

Sings, as she watches, and sews. 
Who is the infant that slumbers ? 

Son of Philip the Fair, 
Son of Juana the Foolish, 

'Tis he who lies sleeping there. 



Womanlike wonders the watcher 

What his fortunes shall be. 
Heir to mighty dominions, 

Continents, isles of the sea ; 
Grandson of Burgundy's Mary, 

Of Isabella of Spain, 
Who shall measure his empire, 

Who can limit his reign? 



54 

Soft and blithe is her singing, 

For how can she read his fate ? 
Know the curse of his power, 

Grieve that it is so great ? 
Foresee the time when his reason 

Under the load shall have sunk, 
Till he flee from human contact. 

To die the death of a monk? 

Not in the thoughts of the watcher 

Such dark fancies abide. 
But her woman-love for an infant, 

And her Austrian princess' pride 
And in the summer breezes 

Sews she, and sings with glee. 
Proud that the boy in the cradle, 

Master of millions must be. 



55 

THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY DELUGE. 
A. D. 1524. 

In the days that we now call the Middle 
Ages 

There were no philosophers, very few sages, 

But plenty of clericals, soldiers and lords, 

Plenty astrologers— all of them frauds. 

There were horoscopes cast, and really be- 
lieved in, 

Prophecies uttered — to be deceived in; 

People then credited all they were told, 

Needless to say that they often got sold ; 

And the strangest deception the histories 
own 

As the Sixteenth Century Deluge is known. 

A much learned Dutchman, Steffler by name, 
Should be handed down to immortal fame. 
By investigation this man had found 
That the human race would again be drowned, 



56 

In the year, as revealed by his magic lore, 

Of fifteen hundred and twenty-four. 

That the world its peril might understand 

The announcement was made known to every 
land. 

And all were advised to be wise and wary 
For the flood would be due in February. 
Nor did he fail of a calculation 
To account for the frightful precipitation ; 
A conjunction of Jupiter, Saturn and Mars 
Would be the caper cut out by the stars, 
In the sign of the Fishes — the very quarter 
To which you would look for plenty of water. 

Throughout the Low Countries spread great 

alarm : 
What should men do to be saved from harm? 
Many proposed bad acquaintance to drop 
And betake themselves to some steeple top, 
Others began long-deferred repenting. 
While others gave themselves to lamenting. 
Husbands rejoiced that their wives could not 

swim. 
And wives said, " drowning is too good for 

him ! " 



57 

And the very few wlio expressed a doubt 
By sneers and reproaches were put to rout. 

Yet some there were, unlike the rest, 
Who, having some cash they wished to in- 
vest, 
And in the delusion taking no stock, 
Set coolly to work to shear the whole flock. 
For the mass were ready and eager to sell, 
And sellers came seeking the buyers, pell- 
mell, 
Till the whole population, with terror mad, 
Sold out at dead loss almost all they had. 



Up went the cost of tarpaulin clothes. 
And the price of salted provisions rose ; 
Boat builders came into great demand, 
And were eagerly sought for on every hand ; 
And every craft that could sail or swim 
Was engaged for passengers up to the brim. 
Even a savage with a rude canoe 
Would have been welcomed with much ado. 



58 

A revival of knowledge the epoch marks, 
For men rediscovered how to build arks. 

One, who'd determined he would not drown, 
Was a wealthy burgher of Amsterdam town, 
One Vandervoort, whose yacht was so great 
That he was considered proof against fate; 
So filled with comforts and luxuries rare 
That Noah's ark could in nothing compare. 

January slowly glided along, 
One could purchase a village for a mere song; 
And careful observers, watching the sky, 
Remarked that it was unusually dry. 
The deluge would come, people said, that 
was plain, 

For the clerk of the weather was storing up 
rain. 

February arrived ; still the sun shone bright. 
But the popular agony rose to its height; 
The churches were crowded; all hastened to 

pray. 
Except the boat builders, who worked night 

and day. 



59 

It was hard to decide which engrossed the 

most cares, 
The building of boats or the saying of 

prayers ; 
Yet, day by day, as the month hurried by, 
Perpetual sunshine poured from the sky. 

That year was a leap year, the calendar 

says. 
And the second month had twenty-nine 

days; 

Yet, while all Holland with panic was 
cowed, 

Not one of the twenty-nine brought forth a 

cloud ! 
Not a drop of rain nor a flake of snow 
Fell from the skies to the earth below, 
Although the conjunction duly took place. 
And clouds of dismay were on Steffler's 

face. 

'Twas a blow to the whole soothsayer race, 
Who since have been held in deserved dis- 
grace. 



60 

But the loss, by the deluge which did not 

come, 
Was great to many and total to some ; 
For, having invested in boats and arks, 
They had nothing now but these useless 

barks, 
And multitudes were so wholly bereft 
That nothing at all but their lives was left ; 
But, having escaped from a watery fate, 
Like Noah, the Dutchmen could celebrate ! 



61 
COMMISSIONEE SMYTER AT HOORN. 

A. D. 1550. 

Complaint was made by Father Dirck, 
That heresy did foully lurk 
Within the town of Hoorn, and so 
The Council sought the facts to know, 
And sent Commissioner Smyter. 

The burgomaster of the town, 
Fearing the mighty Council's frown. 
Conceived a most consummate plan 
To pacify this dangerous man. 

This same Commissioner Smyter. 

The town authorities went out. 
Accompanied by the burghers stout, 
Encountered him upon his road, 
And most respectful courtesy showed, 

Which pleased Commissioner Smyter, 



62 

Escorted into Hoorn, they fain 
Their worthy guest would entertain, 
And long and loud the revel roared, 
That night, around the generous board 

Where supped Commissioner Smyter. 

At last, when broke the rosy morn, 
And the sun's beams the town adorn. 
Commissioner Smyter was — well, drunk ! 
And so was carried to his bunk, 

A tired Commissioner Smyter. 

That day came many a snijfifling saint 
'Gainst other men to make complaint, 
But the Commissioner was deep 
In the embrace of a sound sleep, 

So slept Commissioner Smyter. 

No sooner did they Smyter rouse 
Than there began a fresh carouse, 
And the Commissioner, full and fed, 
Went from his table to his bed. 

So went Commissioner Smyter. 



63 

Then each great burgher took his turn, 
And gave their guest a chance to learn 
Hoorn's hospitality, and he 
Passed every night in revelry — 

So did Commissioner Smyter. 

And so, for seven mortal days, 
Secluded from the common gaze. 
He was to all petitions blind. 
Nor could the sour complainants find 
The lost Commissioner Smyter. 

The day arrived when he must leave, 
Whereat the town professed to grieve. 
And one more rousing feast was made. 
To throw all others in the shade, 

And throw Commissioner Smyter. 

When Smyter mounted on his horse, 
And tore himself away by force. 
They really had to stay him up 
To take his parting stirrup-cup, 

So reeled Commissioner Smyter. 



64 

Back to the Council Smyter went 
Olaimmg that Hoorn did well repent ; 
Such men on pious duties set, 
Such godly men, he ne'er had met, 

Said good Commissioner Smyter. 

He flat denied to Dirck's own face 
That a heretic was in the place; 
And as his story well appeared 
Old Hoorn was from the charges cleared, 
Thanks to Commissioner Smyter. 



65 



CHIRLES V. AND THE SIEGE OF 
METZ. 

A. D. 1552. 

The Kaiser Karl is miglity and proud, 
The sun on his empire never sets, 

And his wrath was high and his vow was 
vowed 
To retake tlie valiant city of Metz. 

Master of Mexico and of Peru, 

Of mountains of treasure beyond the sea, 
Yet with empty coffers, lie humbly drew 

A loan from Cosmo de Medici. 



Splendid and strong, Ms warlike array 
Had marched, at the Emperor's word, to 
seize 

The town which snug by its towers lay. 
Where flew tbe flag of the Duke of Guise. 



66 

And now at tlie end of seventy days, 
With nearly half of his army slain, 

The Kaiser resolves the siege to raise, 
And Metz breathes freely and safe again. 

And he defeated ! of millions the lord, 
Of slaves and subjects of every hue, 

With broken army and broken sword, 
Brave Metz has broken his spirit too. 



They say his words are sullen and few, 
That his glance is vague and his brain for- 
gets, 

That his family madness came to view 
At his luckless siege of the citv of Metz. 



They say he intends a last retreat 

From a world whose greatness is dross 
and dust, 

That he may his daily prayers repeat 
And sing his anthems at lone St. Just. 



67 
VIVENT LES GUEUX! 

(Hurrah for the Beggars !) 

A. D. 1566. 

In Kuitemberg palace the revel was high, 
The Lord Breclenrode gave banquet that 
night, 

And what rank could furnish, or treasure 
could buy 

Shone brilliant and proud beneath flood- 
ings of light. 



And crowds of the reckless young nobles 
were there. 

Who squandered their rentals on tables 
of chance, 

And graybeards, who lived an old age of 
despair. 

Since fortune on graybeards looks ever 
askance. 



68 



And some were insolvent, and all were in 
debt, 
Some hated the Regent, some hated the 
law. 

And some upon change and disturbance 
were set, 
And all were discordant, impatient and 
sore. 

Their "Noble's Petition" to Margaret had 
prayed 
That worship be free from the axe, stake 
and cord ; 
But Margaret the Regent her answer del-ayed. 
And while she debated, they revelled and 
roared. 

Then up rose a spokesman; " O, have ye not 
learned 
What words to the Regent Count Barlai- 
mont said, 
When she our petition half welcomed, half 
spurned, 
And at its bold language blushed sudden- 
ly red, 



69 



" Then trembled, and stammered, in anger 
and fear. 
And the woman revealed in the puppet of 
state ? 
Then Barlaimont whispered soft words in 
her ear — 
' These are but as beggars who swarm at 
your gate ! ' " 

Broke forth a loud jeer from the throat of 
each guest ; 
"Long life to the Beggars !" was shouted 
and said, 
And Brussels at midnight was startled from 
rest, 
And turned every slumbering burgher in 
bed. 

" The Beggars!" by that modest name are 
they known, 
With it they will live, and for it they will 
die. 
Long life to the Beggars ! The King on his 
throne, 
Shall tremble and shrink at that ominous 
cry! 



70 



THE THREE ORANGES. 



A. D. 1568— Hd47. 



William the Silent was hero and ssi^e, 

The hope of his people, the stay of the 
State, 
And, far in advance of his bigoted age. 
His tolerance stamped him deservedly 
great; 
The fame of story, the praises of song, 
To the martyr prince as of right belong. 



Maurice of Orange was selfish and fierce. 
In youth over gay, but in age severe, 

No plea for pity his bosom could pierce 
He knew no mercy, and felt no fear : 

His vices he vailed 'neath Religion's hood, 

And he stained his name with Barneveldt's 
blood. 



71 

Frederick Henry, the third of the race, 

The second of William's sons who ruled, 
Had ne'er a thought but for power and place, 
And his people alternately bullied and 
fooled. 
Thus the great hero shall live in his fame, 
With his sons' ill deeds remembered with 
shame. 



72 



THE RESCUE OF LEYDEN. 

A. D. 1574. 

Five months^ the cruel Spaniards lay 

Beleaguering Leyden's wall, 
Within, grim famine held its sway, 

Portending Leyden's fall. 
Long since, upon our first alarm, 

We swore to never yield, 
While a single famine-wasted arm 

Could any weapon wield. 

Starvation was our direst foe — 

No flesh, no fish, no corn — 
And weakness checked each earnest blow, 

And made defense forlorn. 
Though every house with dead was filled, 

And every street ran blood, 
The most who died were hunger-killed, 

Their last words, " Give us food ! " 



73 

Our loved ones starved before our eyes- 
Parent, and child, and wife — 

More hapless who from hunger dies, 
Than he who falls in strife. 

Still no relief : all hope we lose, 
When, in these desperate straits, 

Our carrier pigeons bring us news 
From the Council of the States : — 



" The dykes are cut, and on the flood 

Two hundred vessels ride ; 
To bring you men, and arms, and food, 

They wait but wind and tide." 
Still blew the bitter North-east gale, 

And, adverse, swept the coast, 
We could discern nor mast nor sail 

Of the relieving host. 

Hour after hour that wind prevailed — 
East to North-east its range — 

It seemed our promised hope had failed, 
We ne'er should see it change ! 



74 

At last! the vane lias veered around, 
And with tremendous roar, 

High surging o'er the level ground 
The ocean's waters pour. 



The sea, as though in haste and wrath, 
Sweeps onward in its might, 

O'erbears the Spaniards in its path 

' Or scatters them in flight ; 

And, riding on the crested wave, 
A cloud of ships we see 

Press onward, Leyden town to snve 
In its extremity. 



Close to our walls their course is stayed, 

There moor they, safe and free, 
For Leyden is an island made, 

Girt with a boundless sea. 
Leyden is saved ! the rescuing hosts 

Can best the tale relate. 
How like we were to pallid ghosts 

Who opened Leyden's gate. 



75 



PHILIP'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS 
BROTHER. 

A. D. 1578. 

Of England you would be King, Don John, 
And fancied you could betray me ! 

But I will punish your plotting, Don John, 
For the spy and poisoner obey me. 

To England's queen you've made love, Don 
John, 

Tour ambition from duty wanders ! 
And her royal favor to move, Don John, 

You have offered her Spanish Flanders ! 

A skillful agent I'll send, Don John, 
Who will of a brother bereave me, 

And bring your plots to an end, Don John: 
So perish all who deceive me. 



76 



SONG OF THE ARTISANS OF 
ANTWERP. 

A. D. 1580. 

Free artisans we, who no master own, 
We safely dwell in our guarded town, 

We kneel at the foot of no earthly throne, 
And tremble before no tyrant's frown. 

Our walls are kept with good watch and 
ward. 

Our schepens' patrol any riot would quell, 

And our trained battalions of burgher guard 

Are roused at the tap of the stadt huis bell. 



Our craft-guilds settle our labor's price. 
That an equal stipend each workman may 
draw, 

The young woik under the elders' advice, 
And our hours of labor are fixed by law. 



77 

Our votes are our own, our Council to choose. 
And he would be a fool and a dolt, 

Who dared our chartered rights to refuse. 
And risk the protest of stern revolt. 

Proud are we of each lofty spire. 

Of our city's towers and church's dome. 
But prouder far that each can acquire 

A happy spot he can call a home. 
The tramp of thousands of hurrying feet. 

Steadily plodding, each morn and night, 
Reechoes loud on the busy street. 

And the men who labor can also fight! 



78 
THE SPANISH SOLDIEE. 

(From the Spanish.) 

16th Century. 

Long shall the page of history tell of the 
Spanish invader, 

Of Netherland cities the scourge, of Nether- 
land coffers the raider ; 

If Philip delay my pay, he does not forbid 
me to plunder, 

And to leave these rebels their wealth would 
be a palpable blunder. 



Wo to the high-walled city, when we under- 
take the leaguer; 

Wo to the rich, fat burghers, if the spoil be 
scant and meager ; 

When women and children are shrieking, 
and men for mercy are roaring, 

As over the ruined ramparts our disciplined 
phalanx is pourirg! 



79 



Our captain, Alva, commanding, this stub- 
born people subduing, 

Calls eacli Spanish soldier to rise and be ac- 
tive and doing ; 

To every Dutchman a foe, to every Dutch 
lass a lover, 

"With a sword thrust ready for one, and a 
kiss and embrace for the other. 



80 



THE FLESHEES OF ANTWEEP. 



A. D. 1584. 



Peaceful feed at Bergen twice ten thousand 

cattle, 
While from Antwerp rises fierce the din of 

battle, 
Euddj runs the Scheldt with the stains of 

slaughter, 
Parma's Spaniards never give nor ask for 

quarter ! 



Peaceful feed the oxen, slow their cuds a 
chewing. 

While around the town the devil's work is 
doing, 

Where each Antwerp artisan is a brave de- 
fender, 

Eich men flee, but poor men dare not to sur- 
render. 



Peaceful feed the oxen, 'mid the thyme and 
daisy, 

Mid the growing grasses waxing fat and 
lazy. 

While their city owners loudly are out- 
spoken, 

As the burgomaster urged the dykes be 
broken. 



" Why break down the dykes, why set the 
sea in motion. 

Flooding Bergen pastures with the rushing 
ocean? 

All our fattening beeves will for food be 
needed. 

And the fleshers' protest, shall it be unheed- 
ed? 



"Strong are Antwerp's walls, brave are 

Antwerp's freemen. 
We have need of neither Zeeland's fleet nor 

seamen; 



82 

On our good roast viands well onr troops 

are faring, 
And these starving Spaniards must depart 

despairing." 

Evil was the hour when, such advice, pre- 
vailing. 

Saved the dykes, but filled the proud old 
town with wailing; 

Antwerp now has fallen — more's the shame 
and pity ! 

And proud Parma lords it over field and 
city. 



83 



THE TRAGEDY AT DELFT. 

(Assassination of William of Orange.") 
A. D. 1584. 

In the Museum, at the Hague, is seen 

An ancient fire-arm, with two bullets nigh, 

You ask, what may these rusty relics mean? 
And the custodian, reverent, makes reply: 

" These were the agents of an awful crime, 

The tale whereof endureth through all time." 

Armed with this weapon, Balthazar Gerard, 
With Philip's ducats heavy in his purse, 

Journeyed to Delft from Burgundy afar, 
To earn his title to a nation's curse; 

And hid himself beside a certain wall, 

Where the grand staircase leaves the din^ 
ing hall. 



84 

A ringing shot, a fall, a rush, a scream, 

The deadly charge with fatal aim has sped, 

Slow trickles down the steps a crimson 

stream, 

William of Orange slumbers with the dead! 

These are the bullets through his heart that 

passed, 
When Philip gained his mean revenge at 
last. 



The title of a martyr he may claim : 

From royal rank and title saved by fate, 

Uncrowned he died, and left a patriot's 
name. 
As the first citizen of a free state ! 

His fame shall flourish until time shall end. 

His people's leader and his people's friend! 



85 



GEESHAM'S DEAFT ON GENOA. 

A. D. 1587. 

In London town one Greslaam plied his trade, 
An Englisli merchant, dealing far and wide 
In goods and wares by foreign countries 

made, 
And which to English markets he supplied; 
A man imbued with patriotic pride, 
Shrewd in his dealings, mighty in his wealth; 
A school he built, and an exchange beside. 
And did what good he could, and not by 

stealth. 

At the Escurial lived that cruel King, 
Whom history names Philip, King of Spain, 
Passing a long bad life in compassing 
111 to his fellow men, and woe and pain 
To those he called his subjects; for his brain 
Evolved but plans of bigotry and hate. 
And he ruled by the sword and rack and 

chain, 
Yet failed to subjugate the Holland State. 



86 

Now Philip, plotting harm to all the world, 
And much enraged by many a sore defeat 
Since Holland's flag was on the seas un- 
furled 
Resolved upon a great and startling feat. 
And caused to be prepared a mighty fleet, 
Calling his soldiers out of many lands. 
Who at the Spanish ports should quickly 

meet. 
And sail for Albion's cliffs and Holland's 
sands. 



The old world gave him myriads of brave 

men, 
The new world filled his coffers with her gold, 
For Spain was mistress of the Indies then. 
Her sailors skillful and her soldiers bold, 
Her ships equipped with all that they could 

hold 
Of provender and engines of fierce war ; 
Churchmen had blessed and soothsayers 

foretold 
A crowning victory for Philip's star. 



87 

Now Genoa was the centre of exchange, 
And Philip kept his moneys there in store ; 
For, as his varying purposes did change, 
France, Flanders, Italy, by turns he tore. 
Upheaving Europe to its very core 
With civil wars; and for convenience, there 
His ready funds were, whether less or more: 
And so, it chanced, the merchant Gresham's 
were. 



At Cadiz gathered crowds of Spanish craft, 
The news through Europe ran with ready 

fame; 
Then Gresham drew on Genoa a draft 
For all the gold his balances could claim, 
Which drained the banks and thwarted 

Philip's game. 
For the King's drafts most pitifully fared ; 
Six months elapsed before his money came. 
And Holland for the struggle was prepared. 



88 



QUEEN ELIZABETH AEEAIGNED. 

A. D. 1588. 

And now has Queen Elizabeth 

Again broke out in rage, 
Unbecoming to her station, 

And indecent at her age ; 
Of course 'tis her misfortune 

That she is growing old, 
But surely 'tis her own fault 

That she becomes a scold. 

She sent her lover, Leicester. 

With promise of support. 
He brought us many pompous airs. 

But nothing else he brought: 
Besure, he had some soldiers, 

But they did the foe no hurt. 
For they had the alternative 

To starve, or to desert. 



89 

Of the Irish that she sent us, 

8he wanted to be rid, 
And her swaggering English footmen 

No service to ns did: 
And of her earls, and lords, and knights, 

Our people sore complain, 
For they idled, and they revelled, 

And they sold our towns to Spain. 



And all the while Her Majesty, 

Our freedom to betray, 
With Philip and with Parma, 

Has been treating day by day: 
But all her secret plottings. 

With these congenial mates, 
Thanks to our careful watchings. 

Have been known to our Estates. 



Now everything, with blasphemy, 
And imprecations high, 

This Queen has the audacity 
To publicly deny: 



90 



All Europe has her faithlessness 

Most clearly seen and felt, 
And her boisterous tongue could never 

Deceive old Barneveldt. 



Our envoys, sent to England, 

Her abuse has never spared; 
Now the great Armada, coming. 

Finds her but half prepared. 
For us, our ships are ready . 

And bide the approaching host, 
And, careless of her queenly spite, 

Will guard our Holland coast. 



91 



THE SUEKENDER OF DEVENTEK 

A. D. 1591. 

It was old Herman Yandenberg, tipsy and 

vain, 
Who lield Deventer for Philip of Spain, 
And swore that while he a weapon could 

wield, 
He never to Maurice the city would yield; 
Yet the City of Deventer 
In ten days did surrender. 



For the Spaniard's distrust and the Dutch- 
men's hate 
Had placed traitor Herman in desperate 

strait; 
The one his fidelity loudly accused, 
And to yield to the other he sternly refused; 
Yet the City of Deventer 
In ten days did surrender. 



92 

In the breach, of the wall, by day and by 

night, 
Just able to stand on his legs and fight, 
"With a glass in one hand, in the other his 

sword. 
As brave as a lion and drunk as a lord; 
Yet the City of Deventer 
In ten days did surrender. 



And when Vorst Maurice his mines had sunk. 
The town surrendered, with old Herman 

drunk; 
His vaunts and his threatenings were held in 

disdain. 
And Deventer became a Dutch town again. 
For the City of Deventer 
In ten days did surrender. 



93 

PHILIP'S HATRED. 

A. D. 1598. 

Deep and bitter was Philip's hate, 

For those who dwelled in the Netherlands, 

Yet — so perverse and stern was fate — 

We despised his power and escaped his 
hands. 

He hated us because we were free. 
Because he never could be our King, 

For to him the assertion of liberty 
Was a most unholy, infamous thing. 

He hated us for our faith and creed. 
And doomed us all, in his pious wrath. 

At the stake to burn, by the axe to bleed, 
To be crushed as an insect in his path. 

But not to man does the issue belong 

Of the follies wrought by his hate and 
pride; 

He lived to see us grow great and strong. 
And his heart was broken — and so he died. 



94 
THE BATTLE OF TIEL. 

A. D. 1600. 

Vorst Maurice marched across Brabant, 

The Cardinal Archduke to taunt: 

Eight hundred men he took along; 

The King's troops were two thousand strong, 

Victors on many a hard-fought plain, 

Veterans of many a long campaign. 



In Brabant, on the heath of Tiel, 

With the Archduke's force we crossed our 

steel; 
Soon, mute in death, their bravest lie. 
And the remainder wildly fly, 
Spaniards, Italians, Walloons, all, 
Before our onset flee or fall. 



Though swift did the survivors run, 
We captured nearly every one — 



95 

Five hundred prisoners in a row, 

The value of our victory show; 

Vorst Maurice wrote to the Archduke then, 

For he was apt with sword or pen: 



"There comes report of your commands. 
To spare no lives of rebel bands. 
And I must know if this be true, 
That I may do as you will do." 
No word the Archduke deigned reply; 
Vorst Maurice bade his prisoners die. 



Then we prepared five hundred graves. 
And ropes to hang five hundred knaves; 
But, in the hour they deemed their last, 
Lo! came a courier, speeding fast. 
And letters to Vorst Maurice brought. 
Wherein was the reply he sought: 



" No such an order have I made, 
Nor on my soul such sin have laid; 



96 

I pray you, then, to ransom hold 
Your prisoners, till I send the gold; 
And let us now a compact make 
That both will quarter give and take." 

So Brabant, ruined, plundered, poor. 
Must one exaction more endure, 
And must a heavy ransom give. 
For those who on her vitals live; 
But since that day the war has been 
More worthy brave and Christian men. 



97 



KLAASZOON'S POWDER MAGAZINE. 

A. D. 1606. 

Our valiant Rear Admiral, Reiquier Klaas- 
zoon, 
All alone, near Cape Vincent, was able to 
count 
Five galleons approaching, one early fore- 
noon. 
And each bore more guns than old Klaas- 
zoon could mount. 



But his decks are soon cleared for the un- 
equal fight: 
To their guns his sixty good mariners 
stand; 
When down bore the Spaniards — that gal- 
lant old Knight, 
Don Luis de Fasciardo, in command. 



98 

'' Strike, dog of a Dutchman, that insolent 
flag; 
Each officer promptly prepare him to die : 
Tour sailors to slave in our galleys we'll 
drag ! " 
A broadside was sturdy old Klaaszoon's 
reply. 



He fought two long summer days, one 
against five, 
'Till every one living was wounded, on 
board, 
And scarce half a score of his men left alive. 
And none but he able to wield pike or 
sword. 



" The good ship is sinking, my brave fellows 
all, 
Our last gun is silenced, and struck our 
last blow; 
Let us fire our magazine, rather than fall 
In the hands of a hated and triumphing 
foe!" 



99 



A faiut cheer replied from the slippery deck, 

Where mangled forms quivered in death's 
agony: 
Klaaszoon seized a match — and the stagger- 
ing wreck 
In fragments was strewn on the waves of 
the sea. 



Forever remembered, beloved and revered. 

Shall our brave old Admiral's memory be: 
His name and his fate to his land are en- 
deared, 
For he died that the land which he loved 
might be free ! 



100 



DISCOVEKY OF THE NIEUW NEDER- 
LAND BY HENDRICK HUDSON. 

A. D. 1609. 

O, brave old Hendrick Hudson, bold ex- 
plorer of tlie Nortli ! 

Through seas beset by storm and ice he 
traveled back and forth, 

Seeking abroad the fame and gain one's 
country oft denies. 

He to a foreign land had brought his skill 
and enterprise. 

At the rich port of Amsterdam the English- 
man arrived 

Where every risk was ventured and every 
venture thrived. 

Brave old Hendrick Hudson! 

Our war with cruel Spain, which cost such 

floods of blood and tears, 
Had been suspended by a truce, to last a 

dozen years. 



101 

And the Dutch East India Company had 

every effort made, 
In many a distant land to seek returns of 

peaceful trade. 
So on the Amsterdam Exchange it promptly 

chanced that he 
Was hired by the Company again to tempt 

the sea. 

Brave old Hendrick Hudson! 

'Twas on the sixth of April, in his yacht, the 
Half Moon good. 

He at the Texel squared his sails and to the 
Westward stood. 

But half July was gone before his little ves- 
sel lay 

In a Gulf of North America, now called Pe- 
nobscot Bay, 

And, in view of boastful claims since made, 
it is a trifle odd. 

That he was the first of white men who ever 
saw Cape Cod. 

Brave old Hendrick Hudson! 



102 



Then, in his saucy little eraft, he skirted all 

the shore, 
And looked upon an empire no man had 

found before; 
As far as Henlopen and May he ventured to 

the South, 
And then returning entered a broad river at 

its mouth; 

He traced the mighty Hudson from its sour- 
ces to the sea, 

And while its stately current runs his name 
shall honored be. 

Brave old Hendrick Hudson! 

Then hail to Hendrick Hudson, the merry 

old sea-dog, 
Who never blenched from storm or tide, from 

tempest or from fog, 
A mariner who trimmed his sails and took 

his glass of grog, 
And a capital good trencherman at provender 

and prog; 
As brave and true a seaman as ever kept a log, 
And a discoverer who has set old Europe all 

agog! 

Brave old Hendrick Hudson! 



103 



THE BROWNISTS IN HOLLAND. 



A. D. 1604—1620. 



Some English Brownists — Eobinson, Smith, 

Johnson and Ainsworth, and some others — 
Set themselves down in Amsterdam, 

And scarce behaved like Christian brothers. 
A separatist church they framed. 

An absolutely fresh and new one. 
Which, most complacently they claimed, 

Should be the sole correct and true one. 



But, falling together by the ears. 

They passed their time in strife and wrang- 
ling, 
And scandalized our peaceful Dutch 

With shameful quarrelling and Jangling; 



104 

For on his brother and his sire 
Johnson laid excommunication, 

And doomed them to eternal fire, 
With requisite vituperation. 

Ainsworth to Johnson did the same, 

With all formalities required, 
Johnson the favor quick returned, 

With a promptness that was much admired. 
Vainly our preachers sought to stay 

The fearful war among them raging. 
And vainly to our guests did pray 

They'd cease the combat they were waging. 

So that their church was scattered; then 

Smith took a new idea surprising. 
Became an Anabaptist, and 

Determined upon self-baptizing. 
His conscience could not fix on one 

To dip him, so, with all disgusted. 
He plunged into a pond alone 

As though none but himself he trusted. 



105 

Now Robinson, sole preacher left, 

Hied him to Leyden, where, more rational, 
He organized his exile church. 

Which bears the name of Congregational, 
But Holland's soil contented not 

These people, nor their bold exhorter, 
And Robinson two ships has got 

And they have sailed across the water. 



106 



THE ENGLISH PUEITANS AT 
LEYDEN: 

A. D. 1620. 

Tliese Brownist English exiles who to our 
town have come, 
Who censure all the rest of us and deem 
themselves so pure, 
With countenances lengthy and with utter- 
ances glum, 
Have more peculiar notions than our peo- 
ple can endure. 

Because of their Reformed faith we gave 
them cordial cheer, 
And welcomed every Puritan as fellow, 
guest and friend, 
But ere they had sojourned with us a quarter 
of a year, 

We saw that their fault-findings were truly 
without end. 



107 

They are scandalized extremely by the 
music and the dance 
In which our youth and children take an 
innocent delight, 
With direful exclamations and sour looks 
askance 
They turn away in pious indignation from 
the sight. 

And they appear, moreover, very much dis- 
satisfied 
With the way in which we Hollanders ob- 
serve the Sabbath day; 
And religious toleration, every honest Dutch- 
man's pride. 
Is a heresy which they renounce with hor- 
ror and dismay. 

So, 'tis with joy that we have learned they 
have permission asked 
To settle in Nieuw Nederland, to enjoy 
their own belief. 
For to keep our patience with them we have 
been sorely tasked. 
And their departure hence will be a gen- 
eral relief. 



108 

THE FIELD OF TUENIPS. 

A. D. 1628. 

A refugee at the Hague was dwelling the 
King of Bohemia, 

Welcome enough to the people, quiet and 
fairly respected. 

But restless and ill-content with the peace- 
ful life of a citizen, 

Crownless, idle and wearing out tedious 
days of exile. 

Light lay the fog on the fields, fit for a hunt- 
ing morning, 

When to the open country passed the King 
and his hunters, 

Down through the even roadways, bordered 
by trees and hedges. 

Leaving behind the city, with all its busi- 
ness and bustle. 



109 

Slipped from the leasli, the honnds sniff on 
the trail of a rabbit, 

Horses and riders pell-mell follow the yelp- 
ing chorus, 

Fast and furious chase ends in quick disap- 
pointment, 

And the pursuit is lost in midst of a field of 
turnips. 

Issues from neighboring cottage a stout and 

angry yeoman, 
Owner of field and turnips, raises a mighty 

cudgel, 
Cries "O King of Bohemia, get thee forth 

from my garden ! 
Why dost trample the field I had such pains 

in sowing? " 

To whom the astonished King made a most 

courteous answer — 
" Nay, 'twas these errant hounds led me into 

the trespass. 



110 



Surely, unwilling am I to invade the lands of 

a freeman. 
Sacred to every one should be the fruit of 

his labor." 



Back, through the even roadways, bordered 
with trees and hedges, 

Wend they their homeward steps, the royal 
hunting procession; 

Back to his hired mansion, in the depths of 
the city, 

Trots the discomfited king, cursing all Dutch- 
men and turnips. 

Anywhere else in Europe, the peasant would 

have been punished, 
In France he would be sent for life to toil in 

the galleys. 
And in England his carcase would by the 

dogs be eaten: 
In Holland he and his turnips thrived 'neath 

the law's protection. 



Ill 

"LUCTFEE" 

(The original of the poem of "Paradise Lost.") 

A. D. 1640. 

Vondell, the Dutcliman, the first of all, 
Wrote the tale of the angels' fall; 

Noble his myth and sacred the theme, 
Faultless and lofty his measured verse. 

And Sin and Death, in his pious dream, 
Descend upon Man as the Demon's curse. 

Then, by the Englishman, Milton, was sung 
The self-same song in a world-wide tongue. 

And so entrancing the story proved 
That Paradise Lost is a household name. 

And men to its faith were strongly moved, 
And the grand romance a creed became. 

Thus it may chance that a modest word 
Is softly uttered and little heard — 

It may to an unknown speech belong. 
With purport at first obscurely caught; 

Yet its repetition be bold and strong, 
And worlds be filled with an awful thought. 



112 

LORD KEEPER FINCH AT THE 
HAGUE. 

A. D. 1641. 

An English lord is an exile here, 
Escaped from home in a panic of fear. 
Well for him that he quickly sped, 
For a brief delay would have cost his head: 
He managed from London by night to steal, 
But he left behind him the King's Great 
Seal. 



Tyrant and knave in the day of his power, 
He fell from greatness in one brief hour, 
Of Parliament's anger he took good heed, 
And never stayed to demur or plead. 
His pride will gall him, and poverty pinch 
The exiled Englishman, Lord Keeper Finch. 



113 



GKOTIUS. 



A. D. 1G45. 



They brought his body back to Delft 
From the exile land in which he died; 

His native town redeemed itself 
By showing forth its tardy pride. 

They brought him back beloved of fame, 

With many years and a mighty name. 

O, madness of these quarrelling creeds, 
Begot of senseless, chattering pride, 

By it how oft the patriot bleeds, 
And the philanthropist has died ! 

Great Grotius it defamed and cursed, 

Where now his name is prized and nursed. 



114 

THE PEACE OF MUNSTEB. 

A. D. 1648. 

The embassies at last have met, 
The hope of peace at last appears, 

Their conference may terminate 
Our long fierce war of eighty years. 



Each blow we strike for native land 
Our native land the more endears; 

Against the tyrant Spain we stand. 
As we have stood for eighty years. 



Each man clings to his native soil, 
Its very name with joy he hears, 

But few endure the pain and toil 
Throughout a war of eighty years. 



115 

On bloody field and blazing town, 
Men's agony and women's tears, 

We've seen the weary suns go down 
Tlirougliout a war of eighty years. 

Of all these awful years of fight, 

We've paid them back the long arrears; 

With freedom, unity and might, 
We triumph, after eighty years ! 



116 



DUTCH TOLEKATION IN THE SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY. 

To Amsterdam, on one occasion, came 
Two foreigners, attracted by its fame, 
Florentine merchants they, and strangers 

there, 
In search of merchandise unique and rare; 
Their errand was to purchase works of art, 
Whereof that town the workshop was, and 

mart. 



No sooner had they rested at their inn. 
Than forth they hied, impatient to begin. 
And see those artists whose extended fame 
Had reached the distant land from which 

they came; 
And they agreed that, first of all, they 

wished 
To call upon the painter Vandergrist. 



117 

Their greeting o'er, his easels they review, 
Praise all his works, and designate a few. 
And, after long discourse on art and trade, 
The price is settled and the bargain made. 
In casual talk the artist somehow saith: 
"For me, I am a Calvinist in faith ! " 



Next, to Melanius they take their way, 
And to his labors equal tribute pay; 
Again their purses they most gladly ope, 
For canvas worthy of a Prince or Pope; 
But startle, when by chance this artist man 
Complacent, boasts, " I am a Lutheran ! " 



Van Antwerp next they visit; still they buy; 
Yan Antwerp says "A Catholic am I ! " 
They buy of Yan Dall, and they almost faint 
To learn he is an Anabaptist saint. 
They buy of Moses, and — a wonder new ! 
Moses is undeniably a Jew ! 



118 

With clanging bells tlie hour for 'Change 

arrives, 
The Italians scamper for their very lives; 
Breathless they reach their inn, the door 

they bar. 
And tremblingly expect approaching war, 
" For, in a town where five religions meet. 
There must," say they, " be bloodshed in the 

street ! " 

They list in vain for sounds of fight or fear. 

Then draw the casement and with caution 
peer. 

In the broad streets, vast, busy crowds are 
seen. 

With friendly gestures and a peaceful mien; 

The strangers view the scene with deep sur- 
prise. 

Nor find it easy to believe their eyes. 

Returned to home, their tale with wonders 

fraught, 
Divided interest with the goods they brought; 



119 

They told tliat, 'mongst the Dutch — 'twas 
very sad! 

Each man a different religion had; 

And how those Dutchmen managed to main- 
tain 

The peace, was something they could not 
explain ! 



120 



MADAME." 



A. D. 1670. 



Born in a palace, reared near a throne, 
Beautiful beyond everything known, 
Graceful and gentle, laughing yet shy. 
Conquering all with her melting eye. 
In her England and France had met, 
"Madame " of Orleans, fair Henriette. 



What though " Monsieur " be haughty and 

chill. 
Morose of temper, infirm of will ? 
The King himself had royally deigned 
To extend to " Madame " a love unfeigned ; 
And all night long, as the courtiers know, 
They strolled in the woods of Fontainebleau. 



121 

Now Louis the aid of Charles would buy, 
For lie had sworn that Holland should die, 
And " Madame " goes, with her witching lips, 
To beg of her brother the English ships; 
Grand was her progress from court to court; 
Peace or War in her hands she brought. 



Mutual interest will buy and sell, 
Bargains are brief when all goes well, 
Louis and Charles became allied friends, 
Ruin to Holland their love portends; 
But Charles refused, as a thing of course. 
To sanction "Madame's " proposed divorce. 



Beautiful Henriette homeward hies, 
Smiles on her lips, tears in her eyes. 
And France is smitten with horror, to see 
Her sudden demise in agony. 
Venom of poison had caused her death, 
Paris whispered it 'neath its breath. 



122 

Base Lorraine the poison could send 
To avenge " Monsieur" his lord and friend, 
And the trembling monarch did not dare 
To lay the crime of his brother bare; 
'Tis hid, with thousands of guilty things, 
In the dark archives of Courts and Kings. 



123 

HOW LOUIS XIV. INVADED HOLLAND. 

A. D. 1672. 

A prey to emotions bitter and dark 

He mused in his palace, the Grand Monarque; 

Not all the delights of his peerless court 

Could drive from memory the galling thought 

That the feeble folk of a petty State 

Had checked his ambition and changed his 

fate. 
And His Christian Majesty's anger was lit 
At the merest mention of John De Witt, 
And, with an outburst of rage, he would 

dwell. 
On the harsh treaty of Aix la Chapelle. 

And scarce had the ink on that parchment 

dried. 
Scarce to their homes had the diplomats hied, 
When Louis imagined that Holland may 
Be as promptly conquered as Franche Comte. 



124 

From end to end of his martial realm 
He summoned the hosts which should over- 
whelm 
The foes who had thwarted his policy, 
And drive the Hollanders into the sea! 
Horsemen, artillery, footmen, were they, 
All drilled by the drill master, Martinet. 

Easy for Louis to Europe to show 
What an absolute King in his realm can do, 
But Charles of England, by Parliament tied, 
Was subsidy-seeking on every side: 
The best of his fleet, by Dutch enterprise, 
Was burned in the Thames before his eyes: 
So, his wants unmet, and his pride unhealed, 
When Louis for his assistance appealed, 
Charles took the new ally, to vex the old. 
And their bond of friendship was gold — 
French gold. 

Gold, for controlling the English Court, 
For with it can lords and courtiers be 
bought; 



125 

Gold, for providing tlie pomp and display, 
Wherein Ms most royal enjoyments lay; 
Gold, to remunerate minion and dame, 
With guerdons of honor for deeds of shame; 
Wrested from starving Frenchmen's toil. 
To be spent and squandered on foreign soil; 
For peoples must suffer when Kings com- 
bine. 
To govern God's footstool by right divine. 



Saint George's red banners dance on the sea, 
Along with the Bourbonisty?ewr de lis; 
The united fleets in the Channel ride. 
To bring an end to the Hollanders' pride: 
Subjects embrace, who were trained by their 

States, 
For hundreds of years, into mutual hates. 
And monarchs are banded to trample down 
These " burgher folk, who obey no crown." 
There were English frigates one hundred 

and ten, 
French soldiers two hundred thousand men. 



126 

All gaily the Frenclimen crossed our frontier, 
In gallant array, in the spring of the year; 
Such trains of cannon, an army so great 
Had never in Europe invaded a State. 
The selected troops of the King's household 
Shone brilliant in crimson, and white, and 

gold; 
And fantassin, light horse and mousquetaire, 
And body guard, French and Switzer, were 

there; 
And their marshals, the first in France were 

they — 
Vauban, and Turenne, and the great Oonde. 



Town after town soon succumbed to its fate, 
Yielded submission and opened its gate. 
Captains were routed and captains were 

bought. 
With never a serious battle fought; 
And Tssel and Utrecht and Guelderland 
Lay prostrate beneath the invaders' hand: 



127 

While greatly the panic and discontent 
To the Orange faction new courage lent, 
And their partisans shouted in every town, 
"Put Orange up and put De Witts down! " 



Stained is the record and dark the page 
Which tells of that faction's violent rage; 
The law was reversed in that desperate hour. 
And, selfish and reckless, they seized on 

power. 
Both John and Cornells De Witt had died. 
Enshrined in the Fatherland's love and pride; 
As patriot freemen they met their fates; 
And William, from the reluctant Estates, 
The coveted Stadtholdership could wring. 
And be, in all but the title, a King. 

Meanwhile De Euyter, in fierce, long fight, 
Had put the war fleets of both Kings to 

flight. 
And dealt a stern and terrific rebuke 
To the insolence of the English Duke; 



128 

While the Channel was swept, as in days of 

yore, 
And each Dutch ship nailed a broom to the 

fore: 
Our rich laden India fleet, home bound, 
At the Texel anchored, all safe and sound. 
Though few and weak on the land we may be 
The Hollanders still were lords of the sea! 



But how should our city escape the blow 
Aimed by her quickly approaching foe? 
That city, Amsterdam, centre of trade. 
Where the wealth of the world was stored 

and laid: 
The first and chiefest in Europe was she. 
The queen of the arts and of industry. 
Not higher did the Roman pulses beat 
After Lake Thrasymene's dire defeat. 
Than the Dutch resolve at that moment rose, 
When 'twixt submission and exile they 

chose. 



129 

Amsterdam threatened, the crisis was near, 
The dykes must be cut, the land disappear, 
Leaving the conquering foemen to reign 
O'er the seething waves of a watery plain. 
And the Holland name would exist no more. 
Unless 'twere renewed on some distant shore. 
The Farther Indies could furnish a seat 
Where a genial clime could the exiles greet; 
And the list of intending refugees 
Counted fifty thousand full families. 

Ho! for this journey of thousands of leagues, 
With a welcome peace after war's fatigues. 
The tropical seas with their pearls of price, 
And the perfumed groves of their isles of 

spice. 
And the glowing sun, and the painted skies. 
And the balmy airs of a paradise ! 
Firm in their purpose, the burghers began 
To prepare the ships and mature the plan, 
That, though old Amsterdam all should be 

lost, 
A new one might rise on a fairer coast. 



130 

Already Leydeii and Delft were submerged, 
And the waves o'er the lowlands swirled and 

surged, 
When Louis, who came so blithely in May, 
Made haste in July to betake him away. 
And sought his grand palace of Saint Germain, 
Right glad in his heart to be there again; 
Leaving his army in sad jeopardy. 
Chased and beset by the fast rising sea, 
Their camps under water, their finery soiled. 

All their campaign and their uniforms 
spoiled. 

Ere his Paris Arch of Triuriiph was done. 
All had been lost that King Louis had won. 
And the burning a village, or sacking a farm. 
Or murdering children, at Swannerdam, 
Were all the further exploits in that war. 
Which over our borders retreated afar. 
And as, in his palace, the Grand Monarque 
Was nursing his anger, bitter and dark, 
Turenne was surrendering each Holland 

town 
To " the burgher folk who obey no crown." 



131 



THE DYING WOEDS OF CORNELIS 
DE WITT. 

A. D. 1673. 



Serene in his torments, Cornelis De Witt 
Recited the sentiments Horace hath writ — 

" Not the wild rush of the popular will, 
Not the anger of kings, that can kill, 
!^ot the strong hurricane's howl and dash, 
Not the gleam of the lightning's flash 
Can shake that man, who, resolved and just, 
Has in uprightness reposed his trust." 

And Holland remembered the saying when 
She needed devoted and resolute men. 



132 

A GLASS TO DE RUYTER. 
A. D. 1673. 

A glass to the memory of Tromp the bold ! 

And a glass to the bold De Ruyter ! 
Since the Vikings roamed the Channel of 
old, 

There has been no such gallant fighter. 

Should we strike to the flag of the English 
king? 
Should we cringe to the Stuart's pre- 
tension ? 
No, rather to sea, and encounter the fleet 
Which he built with the French king's 



pension 



All stranded and fired upon the shore, 
King Charles' ships are consuming. 

While one by one, with an impotent roar, 
Their abandoned cannon are booming. 



133 

On the Thames, in the sight of London, 
aghast, 
In the sight of their King they are 
burning ; 
While, with new broom at every topmast, 
De Buyter is homeward returning. 

Then fill to the memory of Tromp the brave ! 

And fill to the brave De Ruyter! 
And while Orange colors float on the wave, 

Their fame will grow brighter and 
brighter. 



134 



SHAFTESBURY IN LONDON AND IN 
AMSTERDAM. 

1. London. — a. d. 1673. 

The Earl of Shaftesbury arose, wearing his 
robes and wig, 

Lord Chancellor of England, none in Par- 
liament so big. 

And freely forth upon the Dutch his noble 
censure poured. 

And vented all the enmity with which his 
mind was stored. 

" These Hollanders," quoth he, " I rate the 

common enemy 
Of all divine-right governments — of every 

monarchy — 
Especially our English realm they rival and 

annoy, 
' Delenda est Carthago ! ' we must the Dutch 

destroy ! " 



135 

2. Amsterdam. — a. d. 1682. 

The Earl has fallen in disgrace, has fled 

from kin and home, 
And to our town of Amsterdam, an exile, he 

has come. 
He asks our city to protect a helpless 

refugee. 
And begs us not to render him unto his 

enemy. 

Let all his errors be forgot, and let him 

here abide, 
And let us show that tolerance which is our 

nation's pride. 
He is welcome to our peaceful town, where 

hostile steps ne'er come ; 
Nay, hang his portrait on the wall, beneath 

the stadthuis dome ! 



136 



BALTHAZAR BEKKEK'S " WOKLD 
ENCHANTED." 

A. D. 1694. 

When witchcraft nonsense was in greatest 
credit, 

And Satan's sorceries most deeply dreaded, 

(Set forth, at direful length, with brief 
apology, 

By James of England, in his "Demonology "j; 

When each beheld his neighbor with sus- 
picion. 

Lest he might prove an agent of perdition, 

And all with superstitious dread were 
haunted, 

Balthazar Bekker wrote his " World En- 
chanted." 

He was a man of letters, and of station, 
A minister of the Dutch Reformed per- 
suasion ; 
Not polished nor refined by art or nature — 
Ugly as Belzebub in form and feature — 



137 

But, with a wealth of Scriptural search and 

learning, 
And with a zeal 'gainst fraud and falsehood 

burning. 
He wrote his book in Europe's darkest 

hour, 
Wherein he dared deny the Devil's power. 

The gownsmen of all creeds were deeply 
stirred ; 

Rome, Augsburg and Geneva all concurred ; 

Each to its clergy was the warning giving, 

To kill the Devil would destroy their living. 

With all the warmth that interest engen- 
ders, 

The Devil's foes appeared as his defenders ; 
Of Pastor Bekker's bold attack complained. 
And Satan's power to harm mankind main- 
tained. 

Condemned by all the ministerial crew 
(Though few had patience to peruse it 
through), 



138 

His volume was declared to faith opposed, 
And Bekker by his synod was deposed. 
Lengthy it is, and writ in tiresome prose. 
Pedantic was the author and verbose, 
But that he dared condemn the " witch- 
craft" craze 
Commends his name in more enlightened 
days. 



139 

BAAS PIETEB IN HOLLAND. 

A. D. 1697. 

Czar Peter of Russia to Saardam came — 

Not as an idler, not as a King, 

But as an artisan, learning a trade. 

To work in the shipyard, the shop and the 

forge, 
To learn how vessels are builded and sailed, 
To learn how iron is hammered and cast. 
To learn how spars and rigging are trimmed, 
To learn how cordage is twisted and wove. 
To learn how sails are shifted and spread. 
To learn how rudders are worked and hung, 
To learn how compass and sextant are used. 
To learn how cargoes are loaded and 

shipped, 
To learn how Holland has drawn her 

wealth, 
And floated her flag upon every sea. 



140 

This brawny man with the keen blue eye, 
The giant hand and the iron frame, 
Labored each day for the workman's wage. 
Pored over books at the noonday hour, 
Kested at night on a workman's couch, 
And, when the Sunday holiday came, 
Kept, with his fellows, a wild carouse. 
Not disguising his station and rank, 
But sharing freely the artisan's life ; 
Known to his comrades as Pieter de Baas, 
Always their equal in workshop or games. 
So did he compass the knowledge he sought. 
Parted he thence, to return to his realm. 
To found an Empire and shapen a State, 
To civilize wandering and savage hordes. 
Soften the manners and habits of men. 
Build up a power colossal in height. 
And make his Russia the terror of earth. 



141 

TOECY AT THE HAGUE. 

A. D. 1790. 

The Pensioner Hensius from Holland went 
To plead with Louis for the Orange right, 
But not to him the royal brow unbent, 

Nor deigned the King an answer to indite. 
" Mercy for thine own subjects," Hensius 
asked, 
But naught obtained he by that strong 
appeal. 
Though all his lore and eloquence he 
tasked ; 
Louvois e'en threatened him with the 
Bastile! 

Years passed, in which the French King, 
vain and mad. 
Had covered Europe with his martial 
dead. 
For Fortune was his foe, and stern and sad 
Blow after blow had fallen on his head ; 



142 

And his young Princes all were in the grave, 
And profligate corruption cursed his 
Court ; 
Louvois was gone : to France, though fierce 
and brave, 
Each coming day still fresh reverses 
brought. 

And Holland was his unrelenting foe, 

Eugene and Marlborough had served her 
well. 
Never had insolence been brought so low 

Nor history had such swift revenge to tell. 
And now, to Pensioner Hensius, in the 
gloom 
Of evening, at the Hague, the name was 
brought 
Of one who waited in his ante-room : 

'Twas Torcy, who an interview had sought. 

His armies lost, and squandered all his 
wealth, 
Louis was seized with overpowering 
fright, 



143 

And Torcy, leaving scared Versailles by 
stealth, 
Had crossed the frontiers secretly by 
night, 
To beg peace from the Burgher Man of 
State — 
Once spurned, insulted, placid through- 
out all — 
To crave forgetfulness for pride and hate : 
Did ever a Grand Monarch have such 
fall? 



I^BGENDS 



Olf 



MANHATTAN ISLAND. 



147 

THE ONE-MAN POWER IN NEW 
AMSTERDAM. 

A. D. 1641. 

In the good days of old New York 

Her freedom was no sham, 
For freedom-loying were the Dutch 

Who built New Amsterdam ; 
And when, in sixteen-forty-one, 

An Indian war broke out, 
The people clamored to elect 

Their Schepens and their Schout. 

At first the Dutch Director, Kieft, 

(Who was Governor, or Mayor,) 
By the " better element " controlled, 

Refused their earnest prayer. 
Such and so resolute the men 

Who lived here in that day. 
That straightway they determined 

No further tax to pay. 



148 

When Kieft perceived no way to win, 

By force, or craft, or wit. 
He laid his one-man power aside. 

And hastened to submit. 
And the freemen of New Amsterdam 

Elected their "Twelve Men," 
As the immemorial usage 

In the Netherlands had been. 



And that first City Council, 

Which was chosen in that way. 
Is a pattern for self-government 

Down to the present day. 
Long the Director strove for power, 

And to put the people down. 
Yet "Eight Men," then " Nine Men," 

Were chosen from the town. 



An arbitrary one-man power 
The Dutch would not concede, 

And their patriot example 

With us should strongly plead ; 



149 

For this sound precept then was taught, 

That justice may be done, 
If power be held by many men. 

But not, if given to one. 



150 



HOW THE YANKEES TEADED TO 
THE DELAWAEE. 

A. D. 1642. 

One Lamberton, New Haven man, 
Contrived the Dutch some harm ; 

He was a godly Puritan 
As ever sang a psalm. 

A vessel full of Yankee goods 

To the Delaware he sent, 
For the glory of the Lord — and his 

Own special betterment. 

And when the valiant Willem Kieft, 

The Dutch Director here, 
Advised him not to traffic there, 

But somewhere else to steer ; 

Because the great South Eiver was 
By Dutchmen long possessed, 

Who would not brook a rival. 

Though they'd welcome any guest ; 



151 

The captain, Herrick, swore to do 

As our Director bade, 
And to make mere friendly visit, 

With no intent to trade. 

Bat when he reached the Delaware 

He landed at Hog's Creek, 
And having broken cargo. 

Began for trade to seek. 

The Yankees made the red man drunk, 
And bought his pelts and skins, 

They gave him little wampum, but 
They told him of his sins. 

Predestination and free will, 
Foreknowledge and free grace. 

They preached to him, and made him 
Dumbfounded for a space. 

While he was told his sins were great, 
His income proved but small; 

He got a stock of doctrine. 
But that was almost all. 



152 

Their exhortations puzzled him, 
Their hymns were loud and long, 

And the benighted savage sold 
His peltries for a song. 

And now in wrath the Dutch came down. 
And scattered store and post, 

And brought this Herrick and his furs 
To the North Eiver coast. 

Next caught they pious Lamberton, 

The author of the raid. 
And fined him the amount of all 

The profits he had made. 

These went their way, declaring 

They never had seen such 
An irreligious people 

As they found these Holland Dutch ! 



153 



PEACE WITH VIRGINIA FOEBIDDEN 

A. D. 1660. 

Virginia and Nieuw Netherland 

A friendly treaty made 
That their respective people 

Might have liberty of trade, 
And that all courts of justice, 

In adjudging law and fact. 
Between the Dutch and English, 

Be impartial and exact. 

But though Stuyvesant and Berkeley 

Agreed that strife should cease, 
Yet the stupid laws of Britain 

Have forbid to keep the peace ; 
And Charles, the King, a warning. 

To his colonies has sent : 
"Treaties and laws are only made 

By King and Parliament." 



154 



THE CAPTUEE OF NIEUW AMSTER- 
DAM. 

A. D. 1690. 

It was in the month of August 

In sixteen sixty-four, 
Four mighty ships of war appeared 

Off Staaten Island shore. 
The hateful flag of England 

Flew from their Admiral's mast, 
And their cannon, from the port-holes. 

Sent forth a thunderous blast. 

Then from each tile-roofed dwelling, 

And from each narrow street, 
Came pouring forth our people. 

To view the stranger fleet ; 
The shopman left his counter, 

The wife her kitchen fire. 
And the children left their playground 

To tremble and admire. 



155 

The Kings throughout old Europe 

Had sworn to sheathe the sword, 
Though well the Dutch Kepublic knew 

How faithless is their word. 
The Kings throughout old Europe 

Have neA'er ceased to hate 
The freedom and the tolerance 

Of the Batavian State. 



And Charles, the King of England, 

Was hired by the French, 
And Louis of France was plotting 

Europe with blood to drench ; 
And to the Duke, his brother, 

(Who now has lost his crown,) 
The reckless Charles had given 

Our colony and town. 

Ours was a prosperous settlement — 
Oar sfcadt huis has the proofs — 

Nearly two thousand people. 
Nearly five hundred roofs ; 



156 

And, on a Sunday afternoon, 

Gay was the festive scene, 
'Neath the walls of old Fort Amsterdam 

And on the Bowling Green. 

Our trials and our triumphs 

Had made us proud and free ; 
Our town school was already taught, 

And we loved liberty ; 
And 'round our hearths brave tales were told 

When evening fires were lit, 
Of Civilis and of Barneveldt, 

And Grotius and De Witt. 



But the Dutch West India Company 

Had played the tyrant here, 
And had denied the equal rights 

To freeborn men so dear ; 
And Stuyvesant, their governor. 

His privilege abused, 
To enforce the laws and taxes 

Which freeborn men refused. 



157 

And so there was a deep resolve, 

Among both rich and poor, 
That anything were better 

Than that this should endure ; 
And on this summer morning 

Affairs were in such plight, 
While Stuyvesant was pondering- 

Capitulate or fight ? 



Now was our doughty Governor 

Determined to resist, 
And he smote the Council-table 

With his dictatorial fist : — 
" Ho ! man our fort's defenses, 

And man our city wall. 
For never shall Nieuw Amsterdam, 

Without a battle, fall ! " 

But our sagacious burghers, 

The fathers of the town. 
Maintained that his impotent fire 

Would bring bombardment down. 



158 

" Upon our homes and families, 

Now here without defense, 
Your harmless volleys would invite 

Revengeful violence ! 

" The good ship ' Gideon ' lies astream. 

And a determined band 
Will leave these forfeited domains 

And sail for Fatherland ! 
Those who remain have seen their rights 

Denied and reft away, 
And need now fear no harsher rule 

Beneath the English sway! " 

The Governor looked to seaward, 
At the ships of the English Duke, 

He looked upon his people. 
And heard their bold rebuke ; 

Heart-broken and despairing 
And with an oath and frown, 

He dashed away a manly tear, 
And hauled his colors down. 



159 

Woe for the flag of Orange, 

That had humbled England's pomp, 
When from the seas her fleets were driven, 

By Admiral Van Tromp ! 
Woe to the sorrowing city. 

Whose choice could only be 
Between a foreign conquest 

And a home tyranny ! 

And woe, too, to that royal Duke 

Who did this treacherous deed. 
In exile now he eats his bread — 

The lesson all may read ! 
A quarter of a century 

Has since passed o'er our town ; 
We shall regain our liberties, 

But never he his crown ! 

For, to Dutch as well as English, 

The future is to bring 
A century of struggles with 

The Governors of the King ; 
And when the good time cometh 

For kingly rule to fall, 
We Dutch will stand for liberty 

With the foremost of them all ! 



160 

A LEGEND OF HELL GATE. 
A. D. 1675. 

A saucy boat was ike Annetje Block, 

Periauga-built was the craft ; 
She carried at masthead a crowing cock, 

And an Orange streamer abaft. 
Her gay young skipper was Hans van Loon, 

From the Wallabout shore he hailed. 
And all eyes followed his bounding boat 

As up the East Eiver she sailed. 

Who was there, among the Breukelen girls. 

As fair as Lisbet van Pelt, 
With her blooming cheeks and her yellow 
curls, 
And her waist in a wampum belt? 
With her lover, Hans, she fled from her 
home, 
And they gained the river's side. 
Where the Annetje Block, with her streamers 
set. 
Swung on the restless tide. 



161 

With the southerly breeze that briskly blew, 

Up the East River they bore, 
Past Gouanes Kill and Point Bellevue, 

And the rocky Manhattan shore ; 
But a squall swooped down on the dancing 
boat. 

And the whirlpool raged about ; 
You may see the reef where they met their 
death, 

When the Hell Gate tide is out. 



162 



THE FIEST EMIGBA^^TS FKOM NEW 
ENGLAND. 

A. D. 1692-1697. 

Escaped from New England, tliey flock to 

our shore, 
All jail-worn and wasted, all quaking and 

sore ; 
Escaped from the doom of the stake and the 

cord — 
Poor victims of that most lamentable fraud, 
Which revels in murder, delusion and cant, 
Hysteric possessions and clerical rant ; 
The shame of the land and reproach of the 

time, 
And fills all New England with horror and 

crime ! 
Yes, these are the "witches! " The Mathers 

maintain 
That Satan at Salem has set up his reign ; 



163 

Where vicious young women, bewitched, fall 

in fits, 
And fright judge and jurymen out of their 

wits ; 
While malice and envy, and neighborhood 

hate, 
Drag down the accused ones, by scores, to 

their fate. 
'Tis a crime to be old, to be odd, to be poor. 
And to own a black cat will conviction 

ensure ; 
'Tis a crime to have gossips, a crime to have 

none, 
'Tis the greatest of crimes "stated preach- 
ing " to shun. 
For, woe to the reprobate, mighty or small, 
Who under the ministers' censure may fall! 
Now, here have we young Philip English 

and wife, 
Who left lands and ships, and who fled with 

bare life. 
A neighbor sued English, and when the suit 

failed. 
On charges of sorcery his sick wife was 

jailed. 



164 

At Boston, in Arnold's dark prison she lay, 
And counted the time till the dread trial 

day. 
By some friendly aid to New York they 

were brought. 
And find here the refuge and safety they 

sought. 
Nathaniel Carey and wife, too, are here ; 
The wife was imprisoned at Cambridge, last 

year. 
Her trial for witchcraft at Salem was set, 
They fled, and New York's kindly shelter 

have met: 
He has wife and has freedom, and little he 

recks 
That his goods are sequestered in old Mid- 
dlesex. 
And here, too, are Mistress Benom and her 

child, 
Alleged to have been by the Devil beguiled ; 
At Hartford once tried, and acquitted, and 

then 
Through clerical outcry imprisoned again. 



165 

Enough, they are safe, for New York's not 

afraid 
Of the dire enchantments of matron or maid. 

Time comes, when the sons of New England 

shall seek 
Of their neighbor Manhattan's great wealth 

to partake ; 
Where, with modified zeal, the fierce Puritan 

race 
Shall strive, not for creed, but for greed and 

for place ; 
When Stoughtonsj and Sewells, and 

Cheevers, and Hales, 
And other high priests of the gallows and 

jails, 
Shall be pastors and masters in pulpit and 

court, 
Where our laws are defined or religion is 

taught. 
As the young and ambitious abandon her 

shores 
And escape, by their flight, her intolerant 

laws, 



166 

New York will receive them ; for welcome 

to all 
Will be ever her greeting to great and to 

small : 
"Recalling, as honors and favors she grants, 
The "witches" who came as their first 

emigrants. 



167 

EVACUATION DAT BALLAD. 

25th November, a. d. 1783. 

Unmenaced now by Foreign Sword, 
But breathing Freedom's native Air, 

Let us, with patriot Accord, 

Meet Washington at Chatham Square. 

He comes from upper Hudson's banks. 
Through Harlem Heights and Bowerie — 

Let him receive the Heartfelt Thanks 
Of those whom he has rendered Free. 

He brings us Rescue, Rest and Peace ; 

Our long lost Freedom animates ; 
Compels King George his War to cease 

And recognise our thirteen States. 

Our Tyrants hurry to their Ships ; 

(They'd burn the Town if they but durst!) 
With frenzied oaths and stuttering lips 

They leave the land they long have 
cursed. 



168 

Te Patriots, now in liappy rest, 

Look from your Realms of Heavenly 
Bliss, 
Leister, Van Dam and Zenger, blest 

To witness such a Day as this ! 



We'll form a mighty cavalcade ; 

Each Son of Liberty be there ; 
And be our welcome greetings paid 

To Washington at Chatham Square ! 



169 

NEW YOKE'S FIRST DOCTOR. 

A. D. 1787. 

" As you ride up the road to the Bouwerie, 

But a little piece beyond Bayard's hill, 
A clump of towering elms you will see 

Across the way from Delancey's mill ; 
Where a peaked roof holds a creaking vane, 

Half hid by the boughs that interlace, 
And the traveler looks up a leafy lane 

And is told, 'tis "old Doctor Tucker's 
place." 

So reads a letter, yellow and old. 

Writ by a hand that has long been dust. 
And we only know, as tradition has told. 

That the grave old doctor was kind and 
just. 
When the fever-stricken rebels lay 

Dying in Sugar House Prison, 'tis said. 
The quaint old doctor, by night and day, 

Had tended the dying and buried the 
dead. 



170 

At the King's College, in fifty-three, 

Back where its graduates' records begin, 
He was the first to take the degree 

Which made him Doctor of Medicine. 
The street now known as Elizabeth 

Bounded the farm near the Bouwerie 
pike. 
Which fell to the doctor upon the death 

Of his mother, Elizabeth Wortendyke. 

'Midst his stately elms they ran a street 
through, 
His mulberries gave to another its name. 
And the road to his spring, which the whole 
town knew, 
By time and usage Spring Street became. 
Near the spot where the old cathedral 
stands, 
He ended in peace his mortal race, 
And the mighty city swarms o'er the lands. 
Which once were " old Doctor Tucker's 
place." 



171 
THE OLD BREVOORT FARM. 

A. D. 1800. 

A snug little farm was the Old Brevoort, 
Where cabbages grew of the choicest sort ; 
Full-headed and generous, ample and fat, 
In a queenly way on their stems they sat ; 
And there was boqjst of their genuine breed, 
For from Old Utrecht had come their seed. 

These cabbages, made into sauer kraut, 
Were the pride of the country round about, 
And their flavor was praised at each farmer 

feast, 
Among the Stuyvesants, far to the East, 
Delanceys, that in the Soilth meadows lay, 
And Strykers, perched up at Stryker's Bay. 

The Brevoorts had lived, as the record ap- 
pears. 
On the farm for almost a hundred years. 



172 

From Brevoort in Holland at first they 

came, 
From that parent village they took their 

name ; 
Whence the head of the family — his name, 

was Rip — 
To New Netherlands came in an Amsterdam 

ship, 



The farm itself was by no means great 
Alongside the Stuyvesants' splendid estatej 
But its pumpkins were golden, its apples 

round, 
And buckwheat grew on its upland ground ; 
For a rule of diet the family had — 
To eat buckwheat cakes from green-corn to 

shad. 



Some mulberries, quinces and Dordrecht 

pears 
Grew where Grace Church its new steeple 

rears ; 



173 

Some creeping grape vines on trellis had 

run 
Where beckons the statue of Washington ; 
On the spot where Brevoort House proudly 

towers 
Were clumps of orange-hued Uoempje 

flowers. 

The homestead stood at the end of the lands 
Where Grace Memorial House now stands ; 
In its garden, Dutch tulips of every shade, 
Their beautiful form and color displayed : 
A low-roofed and unpretentious abode, 
The homestead confronted a dusty road. 

A merry old Dutchman was Uncle Brevoort, 
Who had not lived eighty odd years for 

naught ; 
With abundant waist and laughing blue eye. 
And nose of a color a trifle high, 
A gouty foot, and long silvery hair. 
And a forehead free as a child's from care. 



174 

Ybu saw, just through his half-opened doot, 
The well-scoured planks of a sanded floor ; 
And within the cupboard was ranged on a 

shelf 
Old-fashioned crockery brought from Delft. 
The roof o'er his porch for shade was a 

boon 
In the heat of a summer afternoon. 

In front of the spot where his tulips grew 
Ran the road now known as Fourth Avenue ; 
Thence a lane to East River, through fields 

of wheat, 
It now goes by the name of Eleventh Street. 
And as the old gentleman sat in his porch 
He looked down the lane to the Bouwerie 

Church. 

To him, thus enjoying his leisure and cheer, 
One fine afternoon, some surveyors drew 

near ; 
He offered a glass of old Holland schnapps 
They accepted with thanks, but produced 

him some maps, 



175 

Which showed that a project was well under 
way 

To open Eleventh Street through, to Broad- 
way. 

The red lines and blue they duly explained, 
The land this one owned, the bounds that 

one claimed; 
An assessment put here and there an award, 
To run curb and gutter through garden and 

sward. 
He listened in patifence as long as he could, 
And then he remarked '* he'd be blanked if 

they should ! " 

He fought all their maps, and he fought 

their reports, 
Corporation, surveyors, commissioners, 

courts ; 
He hired his lawyers, well learned in the 

law ; 
The plans and the projects to fragments 

they tore. 



176 

But Uncle Brevoort, ere the law suit, 

expires, 
And calmly he sleeps at St. Mark's with his 

sires. 



The city abandoned the contest at last; 

He knew not his triumph, his struggle was 

past 
His cabbage plot's built on, his tulips are 

gone, 
Where his old homestead stood is a palace 

of stone. 
But this of the old Dutchman's pluck we 

can say — 
Eleventh Street's not opened through, to 

this day ! 



NOTBS. 

Legends of the Netherlands. 



Page I. The Tectosages.— See Michelet's History 
of France, Volume i, Chapter i, for the extra- 
ordinary wanderings of the Tectosages. 

Page 4. C1V11.1S Standing on the Broken 
Bridge. — Tacitus (History, Book v., Chapter 
xxvi.) relates the revolt of the Batavians under 
Civilis. These inhabited the country now called 
Holland. A parley is asked by the Roman Con- 
sul Cerealis. The two leaders meet to confer, 
upon a broken bridge. Here the manuscript of 
Tacitus is torn ; the rest of the tale is lost, and we 
know not the result of the conference, or of the 
rebellion. 

Page 13. Ritterband. — Free Lances. 

Page 18. Haarlem is a contraction of Heer Lem, 
"Lord William." 

Page 19. The Countess Jane. — The common people 
believed that Count Baudouine returned from the 
Bast, and was put to death by his daughter. 



178 



Page 32. "With them died Knighthood." — Seven- 
teen of the Knights were of Flanders. 

Page 36. MaestrichT. — The sovereignty of Maes- 
tricht could only be exercised by the joint action 
of the Bishop and Duke. This situation gave rise 
to many satirical and popular ballads. 

Page 47. How Burgundy Got Luxembourg. — ' ' Re- 
pondit que oui, que le Due estoit d'aultre metail, 
car il I'avoit garde, porte et soutenu." 

Page 66. "That his family madness came to view." 
— The Emperor's mother was insane, and his own 
contemporaries believed him to have been, when 
he resigned the imperial crown at the age of 56, 
and retired to the Convent of St. Just. 

Page 69. "These are but as beggars" — De Geuzen. 

Page 75. " For the spy and poisoner obey me." — 
The poisoning of Don Juan followed Philip's dis- 
covery of his secret treaty with Elizabeth. 

Page 76. Schepen : Esquire or City Sergeant. Stadt- 
huis : City Hall. 

Page 88. Queen Elizabeth Arraigned. — Eliza- 
beth insulted the Dutch Ambassadors on the very 
eve of the sailing of the Great Spanish Armada. 

Page loi. "A Gulf of North America." — The Dutch 
writers denied Gosnold's alleged discovery in 1602. 



179 



Page 103. The Brownists in Hoi,i,and.— See 
Neal's History of the Puritans, Part II., chapter i. 

Page 107. "Permission Asked to Settle in Nieuw 
Nederland." — The States-General refused this ap- 
plication, but the King of England then gave 
them permission to sail for New England. 

Page 108. The F1E1.D of Turnips. — This story is 
related by Michelet. 

Page 114. The Peace OK MunsTER. — The rebellion 
of the Netherlands lasted eighty-two years — 
from the signing of the petition for Religious 
Freedom, loth February, 1596, to the acknowl- 
edgement of Dutch Independence by the King of 
Spain by the Treaty of Munster, 15th May, 1648. 

Page 116. Dutch Toleration in the 17TH Cen- 
tury. — This story is told by Voltaire. 

Page 120. "Madame" — Wife of the Duke of Or- 
leans and sister of Charles II. of England. 

Page 121. "Venom of poison caused her death." — It 
was then so believed, but late writers, as M. 
Mignet, have maintained that "Madame" died 
of an intestinal inflammation. 

Page 131. "The Sentiments Horace hath Writ." — 
See Horace, ode 3, book 3. 



180 



Page 132. "Fired Upon the Shore."— The burning of 
the English fleet in the Thames is not a favorite 
subject for English historians. 

Page 136. "World Enchanted." — " Betooverde 
Wereld. 

Page 138. Baas PieTER.— "While the Czar sojourned 
at Saardam, he led the life of a common work- 
man, although his name and rank were known to 
his employers and to many of his associates. 

Page 141. Torcy was Ivouis XIV. 's Minister of For- 
eign Affairs. 



Legends of Manhattan Island. 



Page 154. The Capture of Nieuw Amsterdam.-^ 
This is the narrative as told among the Dutch 
people of New York, in the time of Governor 
Jacob Leisler, about A. D. 1690. 

Page 162. The First Emigrants from New 
Engi^and. — Many persons accused of witchcraft 
fled in these years from New England to New 
York, where they were received and protected. 
These remarks are supposed to be addressed by 
one New Yorker to another, perhaps during 4 
"Vvalk by the river side, or on the battery. 



181 

Page 162. "The Mathers." — Clergymen who insti- 
gated prosecutions for so-called withcraft in New 
England. 

Page 165. "Stoughtons, and Sewells, and Cheevers 
and Hales." — Prosecutors of witches in' Massa- 
chusetts. 

Page 167. Evacuation Day BaIvLAD.— As supposed 
to have been sung by New Yorkers on the day of 
the British evacuation of their city, on the 25th 
of November, 1783. 

Page 169. Nbw York's First Doctor.— The first 
physician graduated in America was Dr. Robert 
Tucker, of New York City, who received his 
degree of M. D. at King's (now Columbia) College 
in 1753- 
Page 170. "They ran a street " : Elm Street. 

Page 170. " Mulberries gave to another its najne " ; 
Mulberrj^ Street. 



CONXKNTS. 



Legends of the Netherlands. 

PAGE 

The Tectosages B. C. 300 i 

Civilis Standing on the Broken Bridge 

A. D. 70 4 

Augustus Carausius 250 7 

Friesland and Zealand 850 11 

How the Bishop Saved Utrecht 1137 12 

Count Willem's Crusade 1218 15 

The Countess Jane 1223 19 

Guy Dampierre and His Daughter . . . 1300 21 

The Cods and the Hooks 1300-1500 23 

The Battle of Courtrai . . 1302 25 

The Burning Alive of the Knights 

Templars 1314 29 

The Exile of Peter Du Bois from Ghent . 1386 34 

The Lords of Maestricht 1400 36 

How Arnold Beiling Died 1424 38 

The Days of the Dukes of Burgundy . . 1425 40 

How Burgundy got Luxembourg .... 1462 47 

Charles of Guelderland 1500 49 

Charles Quint in His Cradle 1500 53 

The Sixteenth Century Deluge 1524 55 

Commissioner Smyter at Hoorn .... 1550 61 



184 

PAGE 

The Siege of Metz 1552 65 

"Viventles Gueux ! " 1566 67 

The Three Oranges 1 568-1 647 70 

The Rescue of Iveyden 1574 72 

Philip's Soliloquy on His Brother .... 1578 75 

Song of the Artisans of Antwerp .... 1580 76 

The Spanish Soldier 1580 78 

The Fleshers of Antwerp 1584 80 

The Tragedy at Delft 1584 83 

Gresham's Draft on Genoa 1587 85 

Queen Elizabeth Arraigned 1588 88 

The Surrender of Deventer . 1591 gi 

Philip's Hatred 1600 93 

The Battle of Tiel 1600 94 

Klaaszoon's Powder Magazine 1606 97 

Discovery of the Nieuw Nederland. . . . 1609 100 

The Brownists in Holland i6o4-]62o 103 

The Puritans at Leyden 1620 106 

The Field of Turnips 1628 108 

"Lucifer," the Original of "Paradise 

Lost" 1640 III 

Lord Keeper Finch at the Hague . . . .1641 112 

Grotius 1645 113 

The Peace of Munster 1648 114 

Dutch Toleration in the 17th Century . . 1650 116 

"Madame" 1670 120 

How Louis XVI. Invaded Holland . . . 1672 123 

The Dying Words of Cornelius DeWitt 1672 131 



185 

PAGE 

A Glass to De Ruyter ! 1673 132 

Shaftesbury in London and in Amster- 
dam 1673-1682 134 

Balthazar Bekker's " World Enchanted " 1694 136 

Baas Pieter in Holland 1697 139 

Torcy at the Hague 1709 141 



Legends of Manhattan Island. 

The One-Man Power in Nieuw Amster- 
dam A. D. 1641 147 

How the Yankees Traded to the Dela- 
ware River 1642 150 

Peace with Virginia Forbidden 1660 153 

The Capture of Nieuw Amsterdam . . . 1664 154 

A Legend of Hell Gate 1675 160 

The First Emigrants from New England 

1692-1697 162 

Evacuation Day Ballad of 25th November 1783 167 

New York's First Doctor 1787 169 

The Old Brevoort Farm 1800 171 



THE END. ,^^ 



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